Godless
by Lily and Shadow
Summary: Really? Then tell me, just what are we?" He paused for a moment before answering, "We are... nothing." M&M, AT, slight OOC, possibly sensitive material. DISCONTINUED
1. Desperation

**A/N:** Hola! Ok, so just a little about this. I was sitting here at one in the morning just thinking and this came into my head. I don't know, I've never seen Matt as religious even though Mello strikes me as a devout Catholic. Nihlism seems to fit Matt a bit better. I don't see him as just atheistic, but as critical of religion as a whole. This is a spur-of-the moment thing, so I'm not sure where this will go. As for the religious aspect of it, I know I'm probably going to offend a few people. Personally I've been studying Wicca and have adopted its traditions and beliefs, so I don't really agree with either of them. I have, however, been at both extreems (if you substitite just plain old Christianity for Catholicism). This first chapter, by the way, is narrated by Matt.

**Warning:** Frank discussion about religion and faith, death and suicide, sex and sexuality, as well as possibly graphic depictions of self-destructive habits. For all of you who may flame me later, just don't. I gave you fair warning.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note.

* * *

There is no God. No higher power to which we owe our existence. No supreme being who governs the course of the universe. As much as we humans hate to admit it, we are alone.

There is no God. In this purely human world there is only sorrow and joy, pain and oblivion, silence and chaos, hope and reality, agony and death. There is no higher meaning behind it. There is no grand scheme. There is nothing. There exists only each individual human being and it is within his or her own mind that God originates. There is no God. There is only human desperation.

There is, however, sin. They say that greed is the root of all sin, the lust for power and riches and carnal pleasure. They are wrong. Sin and the figment we call God have the same origin: human desperation. Desperation to prove to ourselves that we are not weak, to have the ability to provide what we need and desire, and of course there is the desperation to see that we are not alone. It is the last one that has the most interesting consequences. It is the source of his salvation and my damnation.

How long has he believed in that human creation named God? Most probably all his life, at least as far as I know. He's been alone for most of his life, too. Not completely, he's had me, but it was still enough to drive him to desperation.

Personally I've never believed, but I have been alone before. Even now I feel so completely and utterly alone. He's still with me – in fact, he's here right now – but I wonder sometimes if he even really sees me anymore. Certainly he doesn't see me the same way he used to. As a lover, yes, but more importantly as a friend. As another human just trying to find a place to belong. We were so close when we were young and ultimately it grew into something deeper and more physical as we got older. But there came a time – it was after our first night together – that he started to distance himself from me. Desperation.

He doesn't know yet, won't know until it's too late. I'd like to keep it that way, although I think he's already begun to notice. He commented just yesterday on how thin I am, how I haven't been myself lately. How would he know? He's gone so much that he wouldn't know. He's distanced himself from me out of fear of his sin.

There is no God in this world, but there is sin. Not sin as he understands it – according to his beliefs loving me is a sin – but real sin. Murder, rape, abuse, theft, arson, the list goes on. Real sin. Sin against your fellow man. Love, though… love is never a sin. Love is the only thing that can make this life bearable.

He's right here next to me, so close I can feel the heat from his body, but I've never felt more alone. Abandonment is nothing new to me, but this time it's too much. Desperation. I know my sin, feel the weight of it every waking moment, and it is too much. Desperation. The sheer powerlessness. Desperation. The knowledge that none of it changes anything.

Really we don't. We live for awhile, fighting and hoping, just wishing that maybe we can make some difference in the world. Ultimately we fail. There is no meaning. There is no clarity. There is no hope. There is no God. There is only human understanding and human desperation.


	2. Old Scars

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter two. Ok, so the begining of this may be a little confusing. It kind of jumps into the middle of something that has been going on for several years. I tried to keep both Matt and Mello as in character as possible. Yes, there is more to this. I haven't been able to write very well the past few days, so this was kind of slow. Anyway, on with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles and AlisterRainbow for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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"Mello?" Matt whispered, wrapping his arms around the boy who lay sleeping peacefully beside him. Blue eyes opened and without a word the blonde shifted to look him in the face. Matt had to look away for a moment before he continued speaking. "What am I to you?" 

Mello sighed heavily. Two thirty in the morning and Matt was ready to start a fight. Mello knew nothing he said would satisfy the redhead, so he simply said the logical thing. "Matt, we are not having this discussion right now. Remember the last time? You ended up walking out on me."

"You called me a whore!" Matt shot back.

"I'm aware of that," Mello snapped. "But it was provoked."

"How?" Matt asked. "By me asking why you're with me if you think you're damned for it? I wanted to know. I still want to know. I feel like I'm losing you."

The blonde turned away in favour of swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Silently he got up and went to stand at the window, opening it and letting the night breeze toss his long golden hair back out of his face. Just the cold made him feel a little bit better; Matt hated the cold, but it helped Mello think. He could feel the cool metal of his rosary against his bare chest as he stood looking out at the cloudy sky. True, he hadn't been around as much lately. True, he had once made the mistake of telling Matt that they were both damned. True, Matt knew full well that he still hated himself for this. But that didn't mean a thing. Beyond everything else he still loved Matt, even if he did think it was a sin.

"Matt," he said so softly it was hardly audible. "Why do you insist on bringing that up?"

The redhead studied the blonde's back as he spoke. "I need to know where we stand. How can you love me if you're so dead set against it? I feel like I'm losing you."

He heard the blonde sigh again before receiving an answer. "I just do. We'll talk in the morning. Until then I'm sleeping on the couch."

There was a soft thud as the window closed and Matt watched him leave before curling up and closing his eyes again. Mello hated questions like that, but Matt really did feel like he was losing him. With a sigh he got up to follow.

Quietly the blonde padded down the hall to the living room. Moonlight dappled the small space and he knew that Matt had followed him, but chose to ignore him. He kept his back to the hall as he lay down and pulled the blanket that had been carelessly flung across the back of the couch over him. It wasn't until he felt the redhead's weight against the couch that he acknowledged him at all.

"Go back to bed," Mello said, turning his back to him.

"Mel," came a soft voice and gentle fingers through his long hair. "Talk to me Mel."

"Go back to bed," Mello repeated.

"Not until you talk to me," Matt said, draping an arm over Mello's shoulder.

The thin blonde shoved the offending limb back at its owner and sat up to stare at him. "I'm trying to sleep. I thought I'd do you a favour and go away. You woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me questions that ended in a fight last time you asked them. Go back to bed."

"Look I shouldn't have asked, I know that," the redhead said.

"Then why did you?" the older boy hissed, annoyed at not being permitted to sleep.

Matt shook his head. Quietly he took his hand back and got up to leave, rubbing his left forearm harshly as though cold. This didn't go unnoticed by Mello.

"Sit your sorry ass back down," the blonde commanded. The redhead obeyed, not meeting his gaze. "Show me."

Obediently Matt pulled back his sleeve. Nothing but faded track marks and old scars. He'd straightened himself out years ago; Mello had seen to that. Still, though, the elder didn't trust him. He watched with vague disinterest as the seemingly apathetic blonde took his arm by the wrist. Matt knew better than to trust Mello's expression; he did care even if he didn't show it very well. Once the other boy seemed satisfied, Matt pulled back again and got up to leave. This time, however, he was headed for the front door rather than the bedroom. It would be cold since he wasn't wearing a coat and it was November, but he didn't care at the moment.

"Where exactly are you going?" Mello said, watching the younger boy from his perch on the couch.

"Out," was all the answer he got.

"Not tonight," the blonde replied. "Come here."

Slowly Matt turned back to him. "I thought you didn't want me bugging you."

Mello sighed. "I've changed my mind. You're not leaving like this."

"Mel, it's been two years. You can't tell me you still don't trust me," the gamer said softly as he settled cross-legged on the floor across from Mello.

Mello just stared at him and answered flatly, "Not with that I don't." _Not with his well-being._

"Mel –"

"No." And the look on Mello's face told Matt that there was no debating this. "Come here."

Matt went to sit next to him, but wriggled away when an arm snaked around his waist. Mello was well known for his nearly bi-polar mood swings, but that was pushing it. Matt knew what the blonde was really looking for.

"What's up, Matt?" Mello asked, looking concerned.

Matt just stared at him as though he was an idiot. Mello had noticed. Mello noticed everything. That didn't mean Matt had to play along.

"You know exactly what I mean," Mello retorted. He could read Matt well enough that the redhead didn't have to say a word. He took a few seconds and his expression quieted. "You've lost weight."

Just to be irritating because Mello had brought it up in the first place, Matt mocked offense. "Am I not allowed to do that?"

"No," Mello replied dryly. He had watched Matt's weight plummet three years ago with the drug addiction, so the feel of his too-thin form was disquieting. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, now you want to talk," Matt said, rolling his eyes.

Mello shook his head sadly. "Yes. And it was obvious that you wanted to as well, so talk to me."

"There's nothing to tell," Matt said. He seemed suddenly tired and leaned into Mello. Once again the blonde was permitted to feel Matt's slightly skeletal form against him and scarcely refrain from wincing as the memories came flooding back. He never wanted to see Matt like that again.

"Sleep, then," Mello said soothingly as he ran his hand down Matt's back. "You look terrible. Your eyes are all dark."

Matt attempted to rise, but found himself restrained. Mello watched him cautiously for a moment before tugging him back and forcing him to lie down. The redhead shuddered as he felt the warmth of the blonde curled up at his side. Arms held him, pinned him, making sure that he would harm neither Mello nor himself. And that made sense. After all, Mello still didn't completely trust him.

"Stay," Mello whispered. Matt didn't have to see him; he could feel Mello's blue eyes boring into him as though he could somehow extract answers simply by staring long enough. "Just sleep. We'll sort everything out in the morning."


	3. Withdrawal

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 3. I know I just put up two today, but that's alright. I'm back at school, so maybe my writer's block will ease up a bit. Anywho, not much to say. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

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_"Mello, let go of me!" Matt yelped. The blonde simply shook his head. "You're hurting me. Let go!"_

_"No," Mello refused. "This is nothing. Have you looked at what you've done?"_

_"And just why does it matter to you?" Matt hissed as he tried to tug his arm from the older boy's grasp._

_Mello froze, stung by the gamer's harsh words. He knew it was the drugs talking, but it still hurt. His expression darkened as he remembered how the younger boy was always like this when he came down off a high. Without thinking he struck Matt hard across the face. "If it didn't matter I wouldn't have hauled your sorry ass back here after you collapsed."_

_Anger glinted dangerously in the redhead's eyes, but it was soon replaced by shock. "I collapsed?"_

_"Yes," Mello spat. "And you're damn lucky I knew where to look for you. Lucky it was me and not somebody else. Hell, you're lucky anybody found you at all! You'd've probably died!"_

_Suddenly Matt's expression became very solemn and he bowed his head as he whispered, "Good."_

_"What the fuck!" Mello shouted. He shook the gamer violently, but Matt just gazed up at him woefully. "What do you mean by that? Good? How is that _good?_ What the hell is wrong with you?"_

_No answer. The gamer just stared at him, wincing as Mello tightened his grip and drove the broken needle farther into his arm. He should probably see about getting that out._

_Mello continued to rage at him. "When did things get this bad? When did you stop caring whether you lived or died?" The irate blonde paused, taking Matt's chin in one hand and forcing the gamer to meet his eyes. "Why?"_

_And Matt just stared at him. Whether he was hoping to get out of answering or just didn't know what to say Mello never found out. They sat there, just staring, for over an hour before Matt finally broke the silence._

_"It doesn't matter," the gamer said softly. There was something present in his voice that was far beyond just sadness. __Depression, apathy, hopelessness.__ He sounded broken._

_Another resounding blow from Mello shattered the silence as it landed just the way the other had. Matt barely flinched. The lack of reaction only served to further irritate the blonde. He grabbed Matt's chin once more and forced the gamer to look at him. "Don't you _ever_ say that __again.__ Understood? Whatever this is, it stops now. __The drugs, the sneaking out in the middle of the night, all of it.__ This," he said, shaking Matt's arm in front of his face. Again the gamer winced. "It ends now."_

And indeed it had. It had been a little over two years since that night and Matt still remembered every detail, right down to the bruise Mello had left by hitting him. That was one of Mello's worse traits, his violent tendencies. His intentions were usually good, it was just the way he went about it. Right now, as he felt Mello's warm breaths slow and even on the back of his neck, it was hard to believe the he could be so ruthless at times. But there were times when he could be gentle, too. Like when Matt had gone through withdrawal.

Matt still remembered those days vividly, although he would have liked nothing more than to forget them. It had been terrible. He remembered the sleepless nights, sitting there while Mello held him, shaking so violently that every muscle and every joint in his body had felt like it was on fire. He remembered being sick, to the point that he couldn't eat, and weak because of it. He remembered the spiralling depression and the desperation he had felt. Some days he would swear and lash out at Mello for putting him through that hell, while others he would cry with the pain. And yet the blonde had been there through the whole thing and never once left him or gotten angry with him.

He supposed it was payback. How many years ago had it been? It seemed like forever. He knew it had been just before they left Wammy's. Five years at least. Had it really been that long?

He could hear Mello murmuring something in his sleep. A prayer, no doubt. How many times had Matt heard him pray, whether it be consciously or in his sleep? The number was probably in the hundreds of thousands by now. All the prayers during the withdrawal period when he though Matt wasn't listening. He had known he was putting Matt through hell, but he also knew that if he didn't Matt might die. It had gotten that bad. And then there were the prayers from back then, Wammy's and shortly thereafter. Listening to those sent shivers down his spine. Always in Latin, like a proper Catholic prayer, and they would have Mello on his knees for hours, shouting and cursing and pleading and sometimes weeping. It was eerie and not at all what one would expect to hear from someone like Mello.

There was a slight twitch from the older boy and Matt felt the breaths against his neck speed up. Mello was awake and, if Matt was correct, trembling slightly from a very vivid dream.

"You were praying again," Matt said without bothering to move.

Mello nodded, remembered Matt couldn't see him, and voiced a response. "I know. What did I say?"

"Couldn't decipher it," the gamer shrugged. 'Probably the same old hellfire and brimstone stuff about us that you always recite in your sleep."

Mello winced. "Does it bother you that much?"

Matt turned over so that their noses were almost touching. "Yes." He paused for a moment. "Can we talk now?"

Mello nodded. "Fire and brimstone is a little harsh, don't you think?"

"What about before? Do you think I've forgotten?" Matt asked, eyes narrowed. "I couldn't really. All the cursing and crying and yelling at the ceiling. Fire and brimstone seems pretty accurate to me."

Mello nodded. He knew where this was going and it was a sensitive topic for him. "Fair enough."

"About us," the redhead began. "You're still not ok with this, are you?"

Mello suddenly found himself wishing they weren't so close, but they had gone to sleep on the couch, which didn't exactly provide much space. "To be perfectly honest, no."

Matt nodded and draped an arm over the curve of Mello's waist so that his hand rested at the small of his back to illustrate his point. "Then why are we here?"

Mello sighed. It didn't look like he would be sleeping anymore tonight.


	4. Realization

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 4. Not much to say. This is narrated by Mello, who suddenly became very, very long-winded. _Italics_ are flashbacks. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles and Everbloom-Karisa for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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It was maybe a year before I left Wammy that I first started to notice it. Or, more specifically, him. I didn't think much of it at first – I had always admired just how beautiful he was – but when it got to be more than that I was terrified. I was fourteen at the time. The first time I saw him that way we had been outside in the rain. When we came back in we were sopping wet and he thought nothing of just peeling his shirt off as soon as we got to my room. If I hadn't turned away he probably would have just stripped and taken some of my clothes. Except that he noticed me blushing. I remember not knowing what to think when he snatched his shirt back up and held it to his chest. But then he just stood there, watching me, his hair still dripping.

_Plink. Plink. Plink. The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of rainwater dripping from Matt's hair into the puddle forming at his feet. Confusion was written across his freckled face and the tension__in the room was almost tangible. He pressed his shirt to his chest self-consciously, watching Mello's blush darken. Why was he blushing? It wasn't like he hadn't seen Matt shirtless before. What was wrong?_

_"Mel?" he said tentatively. "What's the matter?"_

_"Nothing," the blonde hissed weakly, keeping his back turned and his eyes covered. "Just go."_

_"Why?" Matt asked worriedly. Cautiously he approached the older boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. Mello flinched at the contact and batted his hand away. The gamer frowned. "What's wrong?"_

_"Get out!" Mello snapped. Matt just nodded and backed away. He knew Mello had a violent streak, so it was better just to leave him alone._

_As soon as he heard the door shut Mello sank to his knees, his right hand pressed over his eyes while his left clasped his rosary. He was shaking not because he was cold and wet, but because he was afraid. It took quite a bit to scare him, but right now he was terrified. He scarcely even realized he was praying at first._

_"Father forgive me my transgression," he panted in perfect Latin. His voice was strained and cracked. "Father, I have sinned. I have looked upon my best friend and fellow man with lust. Father, please. This is not what I wish to be. Please Father, help me through this. I wish to be righteous, to follow in Your path. Please Father, let this pass."_

_He stayed like that for two hours, kneeling in the centre of the room making desperate pleas. What he didn't know was that Matt was still standing just outside the door listening to everything he said. It wasn't the Latin that threw him – he understood the language and could speak it just as well as Mello – but what was being said. Best friend… He was pretty sure Mello was referring to him, since he was the only person the blonde was close to. But lust? Why would he…? And then it clicked and Matt felt his own face heat up as he moved away from the door, leaving Mello to his prayers._

I hated myself for it. I still do. It is a sin. I know I'm damned for it. I didn't know then that he was listening. He wasn't… isn't religious. He doesn't understand why I am so troubled by it. There are days when I wonder myself; after all, God made me like this, didn't He? But it always comes back to sin. I love him, I really do, but he won't believe me. Because I know that loving him is a sin, and he knows that. Still, he's never given up on me.

_There was a quiet knock on the door and then Matt's voice calling softly, "Mello?"_

_The blonde stirred at the sound. It had been two days since the incident with Matt and in those two days all he had done was pray and sleep. He had left his room only once during that time and then at three in the morning when he knew no one else would be awake._

_"Hey, Mel? Can I come in?" Matt called again. Still he received no answer, so he tried the door only to find it locked. "Mello, if you don't answer me I'm coming in whether you like it or not. I can pick the lock no problem, you know that."_

_He stood back for a moment and just listened. Nothing but silence. Realizing that he wasn't going to get a response, he set to work on the door. It didn't take long before he had it open. He pushed it lightly and it swung back. There was Mello, sitting on the foot of his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his chin resting on them, staring at the wall. As quietly as he could, the gamer nudged the door shut behind him and settled next to his distraught friend._

_"You alright?" he asked, placing a hand on Mello's shoulder._

_The blonde recoiled and hissed, "Don't touch me."_

_Matt withdrew his hand as worry painted itself across his visage. That wasn't like Mello. "Mel?"_

_The thin boy still didn't look at him. "What?"_

_Matt paused for a moment, wondering if he should say anything. His concern for his friend won out. He followed Mello's gaze and his voice was soft as he spoke. "I heard what you said after you told me to leave."_

_Mello's head snapped toward him, blue eyes wide as he tensed visibly. "What?"_

_"When you were praying," Matt said, now looking at the floor._

_"What did you hear?" Mello asked, his normally calm voice tinged with panic._

_"Enough," Matt said. He finally looked up only to see the blonde turn away from him. He was sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. He was chanting softly in Latin._

_"Mello?" Matt said cautiously. Carefully he moved to kneel behind the older boy and rest a gloved hand on his shoulder. Again Mello recoiled, but this time Matt didn't let go. "It's alright."_

_Mello just shook his head. "No, Matt, it's not."_

_"Why?"_

_"You… I'm assuming you heard that bit… Honestly I don't know how you're even here at the moment… and…" Mello let his lame attempt at an explanation trail off into silence as one hand moved to his rosary._

_And suddenly Matt understood. Mello was Catholic, and a very strict Catholic at that. This was probably devastating to him. The gamer hummed softly and draped his arms around the older boy's shoulders in a loose hug. Again Mello winced._

_"Matt, I get that you're trying to be helpful and all, but could you maybe not do that?"_

_Obligingly Matt got up and pulled the chair from the desk over in front of the blonde. Quietly he reached up and pried the cross from his hand, effectively capturing his attention. "Look, I don't know what your god has to say about this, but it doesn't bother me. If it did I wouldn't be here right now. In case you haven't noticed, those of us down here in the world of the living are worried about you. You haven't eaten in two days. You haven't shown up for classes. No one's seen you at all. And most importantly, you haven't eaten in two days." He let go of the cross and it swung back against the blonde's chest._

_"You said that twice," Mello observed, glancing down at the swinging rosary and then back up at his friend. Matt smiled._

_"How about a midnight snack?"_

_"What time is it?" Mello asked apprehensively._

_"One in the morning," Matt replied. "I figured if you'd holed up in here for two days already you probably didn't want to deal with people. I knew I wasn't going to get you out of here in the middle of the day."_

_The blonde was quiet for a moment. "Roger put you up to this, didn't he?"_

_Matt shook his head. "Nope. He did ask me about you, though. Actually, he wanted me to try and get you to come out of here this afternoon. I told him he was crazy." He shrugged. "He said I knew you better than anyone else. I will tell you, though, that he's watching the security feed for you to leave. If you don't come with me now, you'll have to deal with him tomorrow when there'll actually be people around."_

_"I figured my skipping class would be noticed," Mello replied almost gloomily._

_"Well," Matt said, standing and holding out a hand. "Come with me so you won't have to face the rest of us terrible social people in the morning?"_

_Mello stood, but didn't take the proffered hand. "I guess so. You really don't hate me?"_

_Matt smiled sadly at him. "No. I really don't."_

He never did understand why I did the things I did. Occasionally he'll still catch me praying and question me about it. Some of our biggest fights have been about my perceiving our relationship as a sin. The two times he's walked out on me and the one time I left him that was why. Of course when I came back after the time I left, I came back to a hopeless, broken drug-addict. I have religion issues, he has abandonment issues. I suppose it evens out somewhere. It's just a different view of the world, I guess. I turn to God with my problems. He doesn't believe there is a God, so he turns to anything that will dull the pain.

I've tried, honestly I have. But anything I try to tell him about religion just gets thrown back in my face. He's too jaded. He seems to see all religions as some sort of conspiracy. It's beyond frustrating at times. He'll go so far as to look for contradictions in the Bible passages I've read to him. He's done a decent amount of research on religions – I suppose he's either looking for proof of a conspiracy or trying to avoid believing – and he always has some contradiction for everything. I try to keep my temper. Lashing out at him won't do a thing.

He says I'm violent and a religious zealot. What he doesn't realize is that if I were really a religious zealot one, we wouldn't even _be _in a relationship and two, I probably would have killed him for what he is. And I would still be in denial. I find it hard to get by some days, sure, but I've more or less come to terms with myself. And as far as being violent, I'm really not. Short tempered maybe, but not violent. He makes me sound abusive. He has inflicted far more damage on himself than I ever could. I would never hurt him the way he's hurt himself. Hell, if it weren't for me he'd probably be lying dead somewhere right now. And he says I have issues…

He won't believe me when I tell him I love him. The fact that I am damned doesn't make me any less human. He says I've been cold and distant. I know I'm cold. I've always been cold. That's just my way of dealing with the world. As far as being distant, I have yet to figure it out. I distance myself from everyone else, but never from him. Sometimes I really wish I could prove to him just how much he really means to me, but nothing I do seems to work.

This is a test. I know that's what it is. Just another obstacle in a test of my faith. He says I'm either stupid or crazy for believing in a being who, if He even exists, obviously hates me. He's wrong. I just need a way to make him see. For now though, I just need to find a way out of the fight that will probably start soon.


	5. Cause

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 5. So I wasn't planning on updating anything until tomorrow afternoon because I have an exam tomorrow morning ( yes, on a Saturday), but I had this written. It's shorter than it would have been had I put Matt's section in here, but that'll be the next chapter. The italics at the beginning are the last few lines of chapter 3. Chapter 4 is odd as far as time. It's just Mello's thoughts and memories, so it was more or less instantanious, if not happening during this. Anywho, now that I've confused you all, on with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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_Matt nodded and draped an arm over the curve of Mello's waist so that his hand rested at the small of his back to illustrate his point. "Then why are we here?"_

_Mello sighed. It didn't look like he would be sleeping anymore tonight._

"Matt, could you maybe not do that?" Mello growled as he removed the arm from his waist. He sat up, nearly knocking the redhead off the couch in the process.

"Why does it bother you?" Matt asked.

"It just does, ok?" Mello replied. "Look, I know what you're getting at. I do love you."

"How can you?" Matt said quietly. There was no sign of malice in his voice; it seemed more like he was pleading. "You hate yourself for it and you're convinced you're damned."

"You just have to trust me on this," Mello said as calmly as he could. He knew Matt wouldn't trust him. As easily as Matt followed commands, he simply couldn't believe he was loved. That was one of the scars of his past. He had been abandoned too many times for him to trust that he wouldn't be left alone again.

The redhead just watched him, something akin to pain evident in his emerald eyes. He wanted to trust Mello. More than anything he wanted to be able to believe beyond any doubt that what he said was true. But he couldn't. He had come close when they were at Wammy's, before Mello had taken off without even a goodbye or a hint at where he was going. After that he had been unsure, even though he had caught up to him in just under six months. And then there was the fight. Mello had left and been gone for nearly a year, which had been all the time Matt had needed to very nearly kill himself. Mostly, though, there was the fact that this was Mello and Mello was, by nature, unpredictable.

"Matt?" Mello said, raising an eyebrow. Quickly the younger boy snapped out of his trance-like state and his eyes were sharp and focused again.

"Hmm?"

"I have to leave shortly, alright?" Mello said with just the slightest tone of regret. This was _not_ helping his case.

Matt's gaze was deceptively steady. His voice, however, betrayed him despite his efforts. "Where are you going?"

"Mafia life never sleeps," was the reply. It was only five, but he was still late. Really he should have been there an hour ago, but Matt was more important. "I'll be back by eight tonight."

Matt nodded and Mello went to change. He was back in under a minute and left without eating breakfast, but not before he had taken the time to rest a gentle hand on Matt's shoulder. It was his way of promising to come back.

And then he was gone. He sighed as he listened to the door click shut behind him. If anyone but Matt were to ask him about his transgression, or even mention it, they would be dead before they could blink. Matt was different. Partially because of their relationship, but mostly because of the friendship that it had stemmed from. Each of them was all the other had. Matt was special. He understood Mello better than anyone else on the planet. Matt was the only person besides Mello himself who knew every detail of the blonde's life. Matt could destroy him if he so wished. Mello just shuddered and said a quick prayer of thanks that Matt had no such desire.

Matt knew what it was to be an exile. They had both faced that for their intelligence, among other things. Matt knew what it was like to hurt so bad you went to sleep every night praying not to wake up. Matt knew, perhaps too well, the pain of being abandoned. Matt knew what it was like to lose everything you had ever held dear. Mello knew these things too and fully acknowledged that they had made him what he was. That was why Matt understood him so well. Plus Matt had found a home at Wammy, just as Mello had. They had received the same training. They had even lived next to each other during their time there. Perhaps the only thing Matt didn't understand about Mello was his religion.

But the thing that astounded the blonde more than anything was that Matt had been through so much, yet he could still smile and laugh. Mello rarely smiled and if he laughed it was forced. Maybe it was his past, maybe it was that he didn't feel he deserved to be happy. Whatever the reason, he was always awed when Matt laughed. The smile that worked its way across his freckled face and the way he would just let go of everything and let himself laugh, it was incredible to Mello. And he had a beautiful laugh, too, full and happy. Mello hadn't really laughed since he left Wammy and sometimes he envied Matt. How could someone who had known so much pain laugh like that?

Then again, Matt was always telling him he needed to learn to live in the moment. Mello had never been good at that. His whole life before Wammy had been spent planning his next move to avoid being killed. He had to stay four or five steps ahead or he would die. Matt had never been able to plan ahead. His life had lacked any semblance of stability. He had never known from day to day where he would be or even if he would have a roof over his head or a chance to eat. Mello supposed that was why Matt never thought about anything in advance, whereas he examined every possible outcome of every decision at least twice before he took any action.

Mello was surprised to find himself at his destination. As quietly as he could he parked his bike where it wouldn't be noticed and pulled his helmet off. Quickly he pushed all thoughts of Matt from his mind. He couldn't afford to be distracted today – it was one of those 'five steps ahead or you die' things.


	6. Stumbling

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 6. So this starts right about the middle of last chapter when Mello leaves. This got really long. Again, I know I said I wasn't updating, but I've been in an odd mood. The way this looks in my head is begining to remind me of Catch-22 or Slaughter House Five (minus the aliens). It kinda jumps around a lot. Random flashbacks, no dicernable time-line... It won't be that bad, but there will probably be a lot of jumping around in and out of flashbacks. And I know as far as Matt's history goes that the system is much more thorough than that, but there are odd cases when the system fails. That's all for now. On with the chapter.

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine.

* * *

Matt heard the door click shut and knew Mello was gone for the day. He knew he shouldn't worry, but he couldn't help it. Still, Mello had promised to come back. The hand on his shoulder was Mello's form a promise. He wouldn't abandon Matt. Not by choice, at least. With a sigh he rose from his place on the couch to prepare to face the day. Mello could alter his routine easily, but since moving to Wammy's Matt had found it easier to stick to a pattern. Not with everything, of course, and that wasn't to say he couldn't change if he needed to, but the stability of a routine was comforting. 

He felt so numb. He was losing grip and he knew it. The world was slowly slipping away from him. He turned on the shower and stepped in, leaning back against the cool tile and just letting the warm water run over him, washing his tension away. Silently he wondered how long it would take Mello to notice he wasn't he wasn't as clean as he claimed. No track marks this time, but he knew Mello would notice eventually anyway. Besides, there would be track marks at some point. It was inevitable and he knew it. He simply hadn't fallen that far just yet. He let his mind wander until the water ran cold before he finally set to scrubbing his hair.

Another hour found him sitting in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by cables and monitors and various pieces of nondescript electronic equipment with blinking lights of every colour. The only sounds in the room were the clicking of keys and the whirrs and beeps of machines. He had kept the curtains drawn, so the room was bathed in the sickly yellowed light from the fixture above his head. It was too bright outside and he wasn't feeling cheerful enough to deal with sunlight. There really wasn't much to do today aside from the routine maintenance he was currently working on. Still, it was better to have everything up and running. After all, who knew when Mello might call him with something urgent.

It still bothered him that Mello was so uncomfortable with their relationship. Yet another reason for turning to his computers so early in the day. They made sense. He had found that his equipment was more reliable than any person. Even when it stopped working, he could always find the cause of the problem and bring it back good as new. He had never encountered a tech problem he couldn't fix. It was predictable. Stable. Possibly the furthest thing from Mello and the rest of his life. He had picked up an interest in computers back when he was living with his first foster family, the Johnsons. That had been back in the mid nineties, when computers were still fairly simple and much more stubborn. His foster dad had been a software engineer and his foster mom a programmer. It was easy to see how a bright young kid with a habit of taking things apart got drawn into their work. A fond but sad smile crept across his features as he remembered them. Out of all the families he had been placed with, they were his favourite. He had been with them for two years, from when he was four until he was six. The details of why he had been taken from them were still hazy. What he did remember was that after he left them he went through fourteen families and nine shelters and orphanages in the next three years. No one seemed to be able to handle a kid like him. They kept him for anywhere between a few days and four months before they either dumped him or, in three cases, had him taken from them. That was one thing that really stood out to him. The Johnsons had realized he was smart, more than just smart really, and they had embraced that. By the time he was placed with them he could already read and write at the level of a fourth grader and he spoke as though he was older than that. He loved math and taking things apart to see how they worked. That was part of the reason he had had so much trouble with other families. A kid that smart can be a real nightmare if you don't know how to deal with them. He laughed softly remembering some of the chaos he had caused at the orphanages.

That brought him back to thoughts of Mello. Mello had once told Matt that he loved hearing him laugh. However, the redhead had never heard the blonde do more than chuckle, and even that was either forced or threatening. Only once had he seen Mello truly smile, and it had been so beautiful to him that he scarcely even dared to try to imagine him laughing. Just based on talent alone, Matt could have been an artist. Even so he had trouble picturing that. Mello really was pretty in his own melancholic way, but when he smiled the effect was stunning. But the image really didn't fit. Mello simply didn't laugh.

It was odd how different they were. Like night and day. Mello had told Matt everything about his past, and Matt in turn had told Mello his story. Every close call and every failed family.

There was a loud and urgent beep from one of the machines sitting amid the mess that brought Matt back from his thoughts. He was surprised to find that he had already completed three quarters of his tests and scans. Mental autopilot was quite useful when you weren't checking your system for potentially critical problems. He would have to redo everything up to that point. With a frustrated sigh he turned to the piece in question, a greyish-greenish box that may once have been part of a router before Matt found it. There were about six different lights blinking from the side of it and Matt was quickly able to determine and fix the problem.

That done, he shut everything down, knowing it would take awhile to recheck it all. He rose, stretching, and looked around at the chaos at his feet. There was barely enough clear floor space for him to find a way out without stepping on anything. His head ached and he was certain that if he continued to ignore it he would accomplish nothing the rest of the day. Already he was tired and his vision was starting to blur. It would be worse with the drugs, he knew that, but at least then it was temporary and he would sleep through the worst of it. Perhaps Mello was right not to trust him. There was no real, tangible reason this time, just the ever growing pain when he stopped to consider his life. Not to say that it was nothing, but this was getting out of hand.

The depression he had been working for so long to evade had finally caught him again. That had happened only twice before – at least to this extent. He had been plagued by it as a child, but then what child could face being abandoned so often and not feel hopeless. There had even been two cases where he had faced abuse rather than risk losing the acceptance of his family of the moment. The third case he ran. After that he had found his way to the orphanage that turned him over to Wammy's. It was then that he knew he was finally safe and it was then that everything first caught up to him. Prior to that his life had been so chaotic that he didn't have time to focus on it. Once he found security, however, the weight of it overwhelmed him and he nearly drowned in it. That time hadn't been life-threatening, as Wammy's wouldn't have allowed him to harm himself in anyway. They made sure he was eating, that he hadn't injured himself, and even tried to get him interested in class. It had failed. His grades dropped until he was failing everything out of sheer apathy and he had avoided the other children at all costs. Until Mello showed up. Something about the fiery, paranoid blonde intrigued him. Mello was much like him in many ways, but there were slight differences. The main difference was that Matt didn't trust them not to abandon him, whereas Mello didn't trust them not to harm him. Mello hadn't avoided the other children out of apathy, he was wary of them. He refused to eat not because he didn't care as Matt had not cared, he was afraid they would poison him. They never had to worry about Mello harming himself directly, it was when he fell ill and refused to let anyone near him that they worried about his safety. Matt had found him odd and, to some extent, interesting. It helped, too, that their rooms were next to each other. Both of them were considered high risk cases and therefore kept apart from the other children. There had been only two twin little girls and an odd young boy in the hall with them. It had taken time, but slowly Matt had coaxed Mello into trusting him and they quickly became close friends.

The second time he had lost control was after Mello abandoned him. When Mello fled Wammy's at least there had been a reason. Matt had known why the blonde had done what he did and had gone after him. It was when Mello walked out on him nearly a year and a half after they had been reunited that had almost killed him. This time there was no one to fall back on, no one to keep him safe from himself. It was the same slow, cold sorrow that he found himself drowning in. It made him lethargic, apathetic, rendered him useless to the world, and it was painful. Not just emotionally, it actually hurt physically. It felt like someone had dropped a lead weight on his chest. The drugs, among other things, had been a way of escaping the pain. He hadn't cared at the time if it cost him his life because really what was he doing with it anyway?

Mello would kill him when he found out. He had been furious last time, not only at Matt but at himself as well. Still, he couldn't bring himself to care. He made his way to the small room near the back of the apartment where he kept what of his "tech-junk" as Mello called it that wasn't currently cluttering the living room floor. In the back corner of the room, covered in a heap of hand drawn charts related to the wiring of his system, sat an ancient tower that hadn't worked for about four years now. He only kept it so that he could cannibalize it, stealing parts off of it whenever he needed them for something. But all the empty space it had accumulated due to him tearing it apart had made it great for storage as well. Plus Mello would never touch it, making it the perfect place to keep things he didn't want the blonde to find. Carefully he pried the back off and pulled out a large zip lock bag that held a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, for whenever Mello felt inclined to throw his out, and a small bottle of little white pills. This he opened and shook four of the little white ovals into his palm. He hated himself for this sometimes. He assured himself that he'd be up and functioning by the time Mello got home before swallowing them dry. He knew he had maybe twenty minutes to half an hour before the drugs started to take effect. After that the world started to spin and blur, he couldn't keep his balance, and he was completely useless until the worst of it passed. He really did hate himself sometimes.


	7. Broken

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 7. Here we have a rediculously long flashback. This is the day Mello comes home after being gone for almost a year. I just thought it was kind of important. If the italics are annoying, tell me and I'll change it. The normal text is thought. That's all for now. On with the chapter.

Thank you to AlisterRainbow and Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine. It just has lots of loose ends for me to play with.

_

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_

_Matt sat up slowly, trying to fight down the rising nausea. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. _God, the light. Wait. I don't remember turning on a light._ He gave an involuntary shudder and lay back down, figuring he had turned it on just before he collapsed and simply didn't remember. That had to be it. After all, he had been alone for nearly a year now._

_There was a loud scraping noise behind him and the redhead jerked upright, instantly wishing he hadn't. Doing his best to push aside the pain pounding behind his eyes and the feeling that he was going to vomit, he forced his eyes open again and looked around. He could hardly make out anything because it was so bright and his eyes were so sensitive right now. Finally he had turned almost all the way around and still hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary._

_And then he felt his heart stop as his gaze came to rest on the black clad blonde sitting by the door. __Mello.__ Suddenly Matt couldn't breathe. He felt disoriented, dizzy with fear and shame. Mello wasn't there. He couldn't be. Mello had abandoned him a year ago. Abandoned him just like he had known he would, just like they all did in the end. He _could not_ be there. Then the figure got up, moving toward him, and Matt felt its weight on the edge of the bed. _No!_ There was no way. And then Matt realized just how bad he must look. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils dilated, he wasn't wearing a shirt and there was dried blood in streaks down his left arm and bloodstains on the blanket he'd been lying on, and to make it even worse he felt like he was going to collapse again. He couldn't let Mello see him like this, but what could he do now?_

_A gloved hand caught his shoulder in a deceptively gentle grasp as his red-stained green eyes met the hard gaze of the cold blue pair watching him. "Well this certainly wasn't what I expected."_

_Matt opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His mind screamed at him that the other boy was too close. In fact Mello was so close that Matt could smell that distinct scent of leather, gun powder, and chocolate. He shivered again as chills washed over him. Mentally he cursed the drugs for their effect on him and cursed himself for taking them in the first place. He gave a weak cough and tried again to speak. "Mello –"_

_"Shut up and lie down," the blonde commanded, forcing him down. Not that that took much with the condition he was in, but it still made Matt nervous. He closed his eyes against the glaring light and listened to the sound of heavy boots against the floor as Mello made his way to the bathroom. Another wave of panic crashed down on Matt as the medicine cabinet creaked open. "Damn it, Matt. Do you not at least have gauze?" Suddenly the sound of Mello's rummaging stopped, there was a pause followed by a quiet clinking noise, then another pause and Matt knew he was as good as dead. The tone of quiet rage in Mello's voice only confirmed that his fear was well placed. "Matt, what the hell is this?"_

_There were more heavy footsteps and Matt opened his eyes, wincing when he saw the blonde standing in the doorway, two small glass vials in one hand and a syringe and a bloodstained razorblade in the other. He closed his eyes and cringed away as Mello dropped the lot of it unceremoniously onto the small table next to the bed, not caring when one of the vials rolled off onto the floor, and crouched next to him where he lay._

_"Matt, look at me," he said. His voice was colder than Matt remembered and it sent a shot of fear down his spine. Still, he didn't open his eyes. "Now, Matt."_

_Matt ignored him, turning his head to bury his face in the pillow. It was difficult to breathe like that, but he didn't care. At least, he didn't care until he felt Mello grab his left wrist. __Panicked, he jerked his arm back, opening his eyes and hissing in pain. He sat up quickly, black spots blossoming in his vision, and cradled his hurt arm against his bare chest._

_"You did that to yourself, didn't you?" Mello said quietly. When the redhead just stared at him, Mello reached for his wrist a second time, only to have his hand slapped away._

_By this time, though, Matt was aware enough for the situation to sink in. Something in him snapped and anger sparked in his eyes, venom dripping from his words as he spoke. "Shut up. If you cared you wouldn't have left in the first place. You've been gone for nearly a year. You abandoned me. What makes you think you have the right to just come back whenever you want?"_

_Mello's gaze hardened. "Is that how you justify doing this to yourself?"_

_"What I do with my life is none of your concern," Matt seethed._

_"So you just expect me to sit here and let you kill yourself?" Mello __hissed,__ his voice still deceptively calm. "And if this is because of me, then it is my concern."_

_The injured gamer gave a hollow laugh before meeting his gaze and there was something dead and vicious about the redhead's eyes that nearly made Mello back up. "You're so arrogant!" he spat. "You honestly believe that this is all about you, don't you? You think this is because of you and only you."_

_"Matt –" Mello said, his tone meant as a warning._

_"No," Matt hissed, doing his best to throw off the effects of the drugs. His head was pounding and his entire body protested as he shifted to sit back on his heels as though he was preparing for a fight. "Shut up. You don't know the first thing about what happened while you were _gone –_" he emphasized the word harshly "so don't think I'm about to let you come back and start telling me how to live."_

_"That's the thing, Matt," Mello nearly whispered. He had dropped his voice until Matt almost couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears. "You're not living. You're dying. Have you looked at yourself lately?"_

_"Does it matter?" Matt asked coldly. Mello could tell he was serious._

_"Yes, Mail, it does."_

_Matt winced. "I told you never to call me that."_

_Mello didn't seem to notice. He indicated Matt's arm again. __"Now.__ You're going to sit there quietly and let me clean that."_

_"No –"_

_Mello was on him in a heartbeat, slamming him back so hard stars burst before his aching eyes. The nausea he had woken with came back and he tried to turn over but Mello pinned his shoulders to keep him from moving. Matt struggled weakly, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. __Mello had always been a bit stronger than him and right now he was still dazed from the drugs, blood loss, and starvation._

_"Yes," Mello growled. "You are. Or I am going to get rid of all of that" he pointed to the table where the razor, the syringe, and one glass vial lay "and you will not leave my sight until you're clean. Understood?"_

_Matt nodded, trying not to whimper. Mello was putting nearly his full weight on him and it hurt. The blonde nodded curtly and got up, pushing Matt's shoulders in the process. This time he did whimper, but if Mello heard it he didn't react to it. He just tromped back to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the elusive gauze, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a damp washcloth._

_"Sit still," Mello ordered. Matt sat up and stared at him, as though he wasn't entirely sure about any of this. He flinched as Mello dabbed at the cuts. There were five of them, though one couldn't tell that through the bloody mess. They were still bleeding sluggishly even though Matt estimated he'd been out for three or four hours. He'd gone too deep this time._

_After what seemed like an eternity Mello was finally finished cleaning the dried blood from his arm. Matt couldn't tell if it had somehow stained the skin or if the red tint was just from Mello scrubbing. The blonde's eyes widened as he studied the cuts he had uncovered along with a multitude of older wounds. Quietly he ran his fingers, ungloved at this point, over the fresh cuts, wiping away a bit of blood in the process. They were deep. __Really deep.__ Just looking at how deep the cuts were and how much blood was on the washcloth and the bed, not to mention the random drips of it in a trail from the bathroom to here, he was surprised Matt had woken up on his own. Especially after he figured in the drugs, which he assumed had something to do with all of it._

_"Matt," he said gently. Matt knew just from that that there was something wrong; Mello was seldom that gentle. Still, he listened as the blonde asked a simple question. "Why?"_

_"Ah," Matt winced. He just had to go and ask that. The gamer didn't answer, choosing instead to look down at the ancient, ugly brown carpet._

_Mello wasn't about to let him not answer, though. "Matt?"_

_The redhead in question shook his head and muttered, "It helped."_

_"With what?"__ Was that hesitation in Mello's speech? __Anxiety in his voice?__ Matt was incredulous._

_"With… you know." He sighed and took a moment to study the blonde's expression. "It just hurt, that's all."_

_"What did?" Mello asked as though he really didn't want to hear the answer._

_Matt looked him straight in the eyes and Mello would have rather been shot than hear the next few words. __"Being abandoned again."_

_"Matt, I didn't… how… how could I… I would never…"_

_"But you did," Matt whispered, taking his arm back and curling into a tight ball. He rested his chin on his knees and stared at the cracking paint on the wall across from him._

_If Mello thought, really thought about it, he had seen him like this before. They had been young then, much younger. It seemed like forever ago, really. Back when he had first arrived at Wammy. He hadn't really known Matt at first, hadn't wanted to, but Matt just wouldn't go away. Eventually Mello took an interest in him in spite of his better judgement. He remembered seeing him just like this once. Mello had been looking for him and had gone into his room without knocking. He had seen Matt sitting on the window sill, balled up like that, tears staining his cheeks. Of course he had wiped them away and blinked his eyes clear, forcing himself to smile the moment he realized the blonde was in the room. But the image had burned itself into his memory and he had never quite gotten rid of it. It had struck him as odd that Matt, who had always seemed so cheerful when they were together, could be so broken._

_Slowly Mello moved closer, placing a hand on Matt's shoulder and rubbing little circles with his thumb on the exposed skin. He waited until the redhead looked at him to speak. "Matt… I promise I will never leave you again."_

_Matt watched him for a moment as though considering whether to accept it or not. Then, after a moment of silence that seemed to stretch into an eternity, he smiled. It wasn't much, just a slight upward twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it was confirmation enough for Mello. He wrapped his arms around the broken boy and leaned his head on his shoulder and they sat in silence for awhile, content just to forget about everything._


	8. Proverbs 10:12

**A/N:** Hola! Chapter 8. I don't have much to say about this chapter, except to thank my roommate for letting me borrow her Bible. I have three Bibles, two copies of the New Testiment, and a prayer book sitting on my bookcase at home (I come from a _very_ religious family), but that's just the problem. They're at home, where I am not. By the way, I have the ending written! I'm not giving anything away though, except that I really like how it turned out. I'm still not sure how many chapters will be between then and now. However many it takes to explain these two, I guess. And I should have put this up last chapter, but there are name spoilers. There will be more spoilers by the end. That's all for now. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles, Everbloom-Karisa, AlisterRainbow, and SincerlyRainbow for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine.

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Matt sat up slowly, trying to fight down the rising nausea. There was no light this time, aside from the small patches of sunlight that managed to make it through the blinds. He looked around quietly, half expecting to see Mello sitting by the door. Hesitantly he raised a hand to his cheek, surprised to find it streaked with tears. He had been crying in his sleep. He smiled to himself as he glanced over at the spot Mello had been sitting that day, but the smile died as he pushed back his sleeve and studied the scars. Whatever he had been dreaming about, he couldn't remember it now.

A quick glance at the clock told him he had three hours until Mello would be home. He had slept longer than usual. Without a sound he got up to take another shower, but stopped when he spotted Mello's Bible on the table next to the clock. He paused for a moment, hesitant to touch it. Mello always handled it with great care, although the corners were worn away, the spine was broken, and the pages were blackened at the edges and tearing away from the binding. He had had this Bible when he arrived at Wammy's, and although he had never told Matt where he got it the redhead knew it was one of his most prized possessions. He held only his rosary more dear.

Gently and with trembling hands Matt lifted the Bible from its place on the table. He had never held a Bible quite like this one before. It was surprisingly heavy, bound in black leather, perfectly fitting for Mello. The gold writing on the front was badly faded from years of use and if he looked hard enough he could tell that the pages had once been edged in gold as well. There was a crimson ribbon worked into the binding for use as a page marker, but it was frayed three quarters of the way up. It marked a page somewhere in Revelations and Matt immediately knew he didn't want to read whatever Mello had been studying. Instead he opened it to the front cover. His eyes widened as he saw what it was marked with and he very nearly put it down right then. A message written in a child's hand and another language took up most of the inside cover. It was addressed to Mihael. Matt didn't read it, merely took note of the fact that it was signed Mello before turning to a different page. He began thumbing through it, starting from the back and making his way forward. He noted that some of the words were printed in red. Those were supposed to be the words of Christ, he remembered. Also, the language was strange. King James Version. Outdated English. Odd considering English was Mello's third language, but Matt couldn't say he was necessarily surprised. There were lines of translation on each page, blue for Latin and green for Polish. Apparently Mello was more patient than Matt gave him credit for.

Then he spotted something odd. He didn't know what made him stop at that particular page or drew his eye to that specific scripture. He hadn't intended to read any of it. But something stopped him, made him read it.

Proverbs 10:12  
Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.

He read it twice and closed the book. _Love covereth all sins._ Ironic, really, that the one verse he stumbled across by accident in the book that had convinced Mello to hate himself would be about love as redemption. It was the same theory he had held for years; love is never a sin. He made a mental note to mention that the next time he was subjected to one of Mello's Biblically based anti-gay rants.

Matt knew that none of that was meant to hurt him, Mello wouldn't do that intentionally. The rants Mello composed were all aimed at himself. Matt just ended up having to listen to them. He remembered the blonde telling him once that he feared for the gamer's soul. Matt's response had been to laugh, remind Mello that he was bi and had some very attractive lady friends, and ask if Mello would rather he dated one of them. It was meant as a joke, but short-tempered mob boss hadn't found it funny in the least. Matt had dodged several shots from the small pistol the blonde kept on him at all times and slept on the couch for a week. Needless to say he had never mentioned it again.

Finally he set the Bible down, a smile on his face, and headed for the bathroom leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. A nice cold shower would help him wake up, and he needed to be awake by the time Mello got back.


	9. Three Years

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 9. I had to do it. It was cute. I had to. And the song is so perfect for them. Plus it'll be important later. It's Some of Us by Starsailor. **_Bold italics_** are lyrics. I'll let you decided what happens at the end. On with the chapter.

Thank you to AlisterRainbow for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Death Note nor Some of Us.

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It was ten after eight when Mello got home. He had had a long day, to say the least, so it was to be expected that he was not happy about the sight he was greeted with. Cables and various bits of tech-junk he couldn't even begin to identify were strewn all over the floor. It wasn't so bad when Matt was just playing with the stuff, but half of it looked like something that had wandered out of Frankenstein's lab. Not to mention that it now required about forty feet of cable to wire the whole damn thing together. And their apartment was not that big. 

And to improve his mood, Matt was sitting in the middle of it, grinning up at him like a mischievous puppy who thinks he's done something good by fetching his master's slippers, never mind the fact he's chewed holes in them.

"Matt, is there a reason I can't get in the door?" Mello sighed. His shoulders hurt horribly and his head ached. That might have had something to do with being slammed into a concrete wall. The only good thing about it was that the man hadn't made it out of the building alive. Mello's aim wasn't famous for nothing.

"Yes you can," Matt practically chirped. "There's a path."

Great. Matt was in one of _those_ moods. How on earth could the boy be so damn happy? Mello groaned when he saw where the redhead was pointing. "But that leads…" _To the centre of your technological warzone._

"I know," Matt replied. "Come here. There's room for both of us. Just don't step on my equipment."

"What," the blonde demanded bluntly.

"Come here," the gamer repeated.

"Fine." Mello did his best to weave through the sea of multicoloured cables and blinking boxes. Damn techie. But if Matt noticed the sharpshooter's agitation, he didn't show it. Instead he just waited patiently until Mello was seated at his side. The blonde waited in silence as the techie turned to his laptop. The screen was black and it remained that way even though Matt had pressed several buttons on the front of it.

At first Mello barely heard it, but after the first few seconds it was unmistakeable. _**Heard you today, that**__** isn'**__**t my name, you were fast asleep.**_ He looked up at Matt who had a big stupid grin pasted across his face. "You remember this?"

_**Forget what he did, can I be the kid for your soul to keep?**_

Where did he find that? "Of course I do."

_**Some of us laugh, some of us cry.**_

Matt stood up and offered Mello a hand. "Well?"

_**Some of us smoke, some of us lie.**_

Mello took the hand and rose to his feet. "Now?"

_**But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.**_

Matt just smiled a little more. "Yes now."

Mello sighed and let Matt wrap his arms around his waist. The gamer pulled him close and rested his chin on his shoulder. The blonde flinched and almost yelled at him, but he thought better of it. Instead he wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, mirroring the redhead. Matt smiled, holding him tight.

_**I've grown to see, the philosophy, of my own mistrust. We all have our faults, mine come in waves that you turn to rust.**_

"Remember the first time we heard this?" Matt asked. He knew Mello felt stupid letting him do this, but that just made it better. Mello was letting him make him feel stupid.

"I remember you making me dance," Mello said in what could almost be considered a grumble.

"You didn't protest this time," Matt pointed out.

_**Some of us laugh, some of us cry, some of us smoke, some of us lie.**_

Mello sighed. "No. You're right. I didn't. Should I have?"

_**But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.**_

Matt stopped swaying and looked into Mello's eyes.

_**I've been hanging onto something, you keep laughing, awe-inspiring.**_

"Why? Do you not like this?"

_**Some of us laugh, some of us cry, some of us smoke, some of us lie.**_

The redhead looked almost hurt and Mello wanted nothing more than to bring that smile back.

_**But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.**_

"You know I do."

_**Some of us laugh, some of us cry.**_

Matt smiled. "Good."

_**Some of us smoke, some of us lie.**_

Mello was almost surprised when Matt let go of his waist. Until one hand tangle itself in his hair as the other rested on the back of his neck and Matt pulled him into a kiss.

_**But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.**_

He hadn't been expecting that. Still, he couldn't object. Instead he tightened his grip on his gamer and kissed back. It was Matt who broke first. He smiled to see that Mello was blushing. Without a word he leaned forward so that their foreheads were pressed together and just held him like that.

_**My wandering soul, found solace at last, I wanted to know, how long it would last. She's losing control, she's coming down fast, the heart that I stole, I'm not giving back, never giving back.**_

When the music ended they both let go and took a small step back, a moment passing in silence before either of them spoke.

"Our song," Mello said slowly. Matt had always been sentimental that way. "To what do I owe the surprise?"

Matt took a deep breath before explaining. "Three years ago today you came back."

Blue eyes widened slightly. "You still remember that?"

Matt nodded. "Of course I do. You were the only person to ever come back for me."

Mello didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Instead he just hugged the redhead. That seemed like enough of a reply for Matt. He could feel tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away before Mello could notice. The blonde knew that it had been a shock to the gamer when he came back, but he didn't realise it had meant this much. When he thought about it, though, it made sense. Matt's own mother had abandoned him at birth. He had spent most of his childhood drifting from foster home to foster home, shelter to shelter. No one had ever come back for him. No one had ever wanted him. No one but Mello.

Matt was pressing too hard on his bruised shoulders, but Mello didn't say anything. Normally he would have snapped at him, but now was not the time for that. He really wanted to go lie down, too. His headache was making his vision fuzzy. But somehow it didn't seem to matter as much now as it had when he first got home. Damn his shoulders and damn his headache. He was staying right here. Matt, however, recognised the look of pain the minute he let go and demanded to know what happened.

"Why are you still standing here?" he said as soon as Mello told him what had happened. "Go lie down. Now."

Mello just rolled his eye and grinned slightly. "You sound like a worried mother."

"Well someone has to watch out for your health," Matt replied. "I know you sure as hell won't. Go."

Mello smirked as he headed down the hall. "Yes mom."

"Don't make me come in there," Matt threatened teasingly.

"We'll see about that," Mello shot back. He would be perfectly fine and they both knew it, but the blonde knew he still had Matt in the palm of his hand. There was no way he wasn't messing with him.

Matt just rolled his eyes. Mello could be such a pain sometimes. He put down the remains of an old hard-drive and followed the blonde. The electronic explosion in the living room could wait.


	10. Without You

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 10. This took a while to write, but it's over double what I normally write for a chapter. 4,280 words. Just an note on it then. This is the year Mello is gone. The title is a song from Rent and the lyrics are Susan Enan's Bring on the Wonder. I had it on loop while I wrote this. Please, please, please look it up. Anyway, yes the drugs Matt's on are painkillers, because I have experience with how painkiller addictions work and can write them reasonably well. This ends just before chapter 7. That said, on with the chapter.

**Warning:** There is a graphic scene involving SI at the end of this.

Thank you to SincerlyRainbow for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the manga or the lyrics.

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_Matt couldn't believe he was doing this again. As he tied the tourniquet around his arm he wanted nothing more than to die. He had become a junkie, and for what? Someone who didn't want him. Really though, was that so strange? No one wanted him. He understood why. He was broken, useless, worthless. No one would want him. Never._

_He felt the needle break the skin and wanted to gag. He couldn't believe he had sunk to this. __Pathetic.__ And to think he had once believed he had a future. No one like him had a future. He was stripped of that the moment he was born, the moment his mother left him in the police station, the moment he was turned over to that first orphanage. He had no future. He didn't even have a chance._

_Why he had believed things would be different with Mello, he would never know. He was foolish. If no one else wanted him, what made him think Mello would? After all, the blonde was the most solitary person he had ever met._

_He let out a pained hiss as the drugs burned in his veins. __Morphine.__ He knew he was taking too much. It was enough to knock him out for several hours. But it was the only thing that killed the pain. The only time it didn't hurt to live was when he was unconscious._

**I can't see the stars anymore living ****here,**** let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear.**

_Mello looked up at the stars overhead. Why did he miss Matt so much? He wondered silently if the gamer ever thought of him. It had been three months since they had last seen each other. Since the night Mello had left in a rage. Still, Matt didn't want him and there was nothing he could do._

_Matt simply couldn't accept that Mello loved him. He knew why. It was his religion. That was what Matt had shouted at him as he left. "It's up to you. __Me or your cruel god.__ You choose." So Mello had taken his Bible and left. He couldn't quite say it had been the wrong choice, but it hadn't been the right choice either. But his religion had been the only thing that __kept__ him going when he was young. He knew that even if he was killed, God would have a place for him in the next life. That was what had kept him sane, kept him from fearing death, and not fearing death had been __key__ to his survival. He remembered the sick game he had been a part of. He had managed to stay far enough ahead to stay alive until the bastard was caught. Some of the other children hadn't been so lucky._

_Where were they now, he wondered. __The others who had made it.__ Had they ended up like him? How many of them were still alive? He doubted he would ever know. With a sigh he looked up to the stars again. He knew where the ones who hadn't made it were. They were up there somewhere, looking down at all of those who had._

_Cold fire.__The stars.__ Matt had once told him that his eyes reminded him of stars. There was cold fire in them. He wondered if Matt could see the stars. Was he outside right now, unable to sleep like Mello was? The blonde was currently sitting on the roof of the apartment building where he had been living since he left. He couldn't sleep there. It was too quiet, too empty without Matt. It just didn't feel right._

**Bring on the wonder, bring on the song. ****I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long**

_Matt could hardly focus on the task he had been assigned. He was working a fraud case under an assumed identity. Really it had been surprisingly easy to fool the police. He just worried about how long he would be able to keep the job with the random drug screening. Morphine could be explained – he had worked it into his background – but not in the levels he took it. _

_Again his focus was waning. He could see his list on the inside back cover of a tattered notebook as his mind kept dragging him back to the foster homes he had lived in. __One in particular.__ The one he had run from. For some reason he just couldn't drive the images from his mind. He could feel the bruises across his __back,__ feel the belt break the skin with each blow. He remembered never knowing what he'd done wrong to deserve to be hit like that. He remembered being locked in his room, being cold, being hungry. He remembered feeling hopeless, he remembered feeling worthless, all of the things he knew he was. But he had never said a word to anyone about it. He knew that if he did, he would pay with his life. Even at the age of eight and a half he had known that being beaten to death would be too painful to risk it. It wasn't until he was too sick to deal with it anymore that he ran._

_No child should ever go through that. He knew it wasn't his fault, but somehow he couldn't help feeling like he had deserved it. In the end the people who had done that to him went to prison, and he went to another orphanage. Same as always, just another orphanage where the people would resent him for being intelligent and the other kids would shun him because he was a freak, and from there he would go to another family that would end up dumping him within the year. Wammy's had been a minor miracle. Still, aside from his skills as a hacker, it wasn't doing him much good now. And he still felt just as worthless as ever._

**I fell through the ****cracks at the end of our street, l****et****'****s go to the beach, ****get**** the sand through our feet.**

_The days seemed just to crawl by and when they were over there were the long nights spent in solitude and silence. Mello felt like life was taunting him, giving him something to hold onto, a chance at something better, only to tear it away. Most of the time he spent in his apartment – he couldn't bring himself to call it home – was spent in prayer. He would plead with God to grant him hope. He didn't dare ask more than that, his transgression considered, only hope. Somehow the well worn Bible on the table just wasn't enough anymore. _

_Surely asking for hope wasn't too much. It wasn't as though he was asking for another chance, or even forgiveness for that matter. Only the hope he needed to hold on. What had happened to the days when his faith was enough? When God was all he needed to get through even the worst life could throw at him? He knew the answer, but he didn't like it. Matt. Matt had happened, and when the redhead had walked out of his life he had left a hole that nothing else seemed to be able to fill. Matt had forced him to see a side of himself he hadn't remembered existed._

_During his time as a captive he had crushed his emotions in favour of survival. To live at all was to live without feeling. When one of the others gave up hope and thereby life, he couldn't mourn for them or fear that his fate would be the same. It hadn't taken long to learn that. He had kept himself distant from them. He called them by numbers when he called them at all; to him they had no names, no identities, __no__ families searching and hoping and fearing for them. He refused to think that somewhere out there __there__ were families searching desperately for each and every one of these children. Little did he know that he was the one who had no one waiting for him, no one to look for __him.__ It wasn't until he was freed that he found out the father who had raised him alone had finally succumbed to the effects of a disease he had hidden from his only son. _

_His father had given him the Bible he held now. It had been something of a challenge for a son he knew was incredibly gifted. The rosary around his neck had been his mother's. He had never known her, but his father had always likened her to an angel. He had had these things with him when he was kidnapped, but the man who held him would not take them away from him. He had refused to touch them, in fact, because of their deep religious meaning. Mello had been awed by this at first, but soon he looked to the God he had heard so much about as a kid to save him. He recalled the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the furnace and prayed for God to save him just as He had saved them. He believed that if he held on to his faith, he would make it out alive. After two and a half years with a man who he later found out to be a wanted serial killer, he was finally freed. Twenty four other young blonde boys hadn't been so fortunate._

_He doubted Matt understood that. How could he? But this was what had happened and Mello was determined that he was strong enough to get past it. If Matt didn't want him, that was fine. Still, Matt had been the only person to ever convince him to go against his religion. But that didn't matter now. His faith had seen him through __worse,__ it would see him through this. _

**Bring on the wonder, bring on the song. ****I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long**

_Matt couldn't sleep. Seven months. Seven months and he could still hear every word of the final argument playing over and over in his mind like a broken record. It was his fault Mello was gone. Then again, when he was abandoned it had always been because of something he had done He shouldn't have pushed the issue of religion. Mello was touchy about that. Matt knew he should have at least granted him that. So maybe it didn't make sense, but who was he to judge?_

_It was just that he had never understood why Mello clung so fiercely to something that had led him to hate himself. Matt had given up on religion a long time ago. Several of his foster families had been religious and several of the orphanages that had taken him in had been church run. At first it had seemed like a wonderful thing, but after a while his faith in it had begun to fade. What about the families that abandoned him? What happened to Mark 25:40? "And the king shall answer unto them, Verily I say unto you, __Inas__ much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my __bretheren__ ye have done it unto me." How could they believe that and then simply throw him away, as though he was nothing?_

_And so he lay there, staring at the cracks in the paint on the ceiling and wondering. Wondering about Mello, wondering about where he had gone wrong. Why could he not see what Mello saw? He lay there in the darkness, awake and alone in the night when he should have been sleeping, feeling the drugs and his headache gnawing at the edges of his vision and wondering just what it was that had brought him to this. "For whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." Matt remembered hearing once someone say "We have enough religion in the world to teach us to hate, but not enough to teach us to love one another." It was an odd statement until you thought about it. There was just enough religion in Mello's life to teach him to hate himself but not enough to teach him that it was alright to love. There was just enough religion in Matt's life to make him resent it, but not enough to show him the good it could do._

_And so there he was, lost as ever and just wishing there was something worth hoping for. He felt like a child again, alone in the world with no one to cling to, not knowing what to believe. The storm of emotion that had been lurking just below the surface for so long was stirring again, threatening to rain down on him and drown him. All of the sorrow, the anger, the fear, the memories; everything he had locked away for so long was threatening to break free. The only thing he had ever really let show was the small joy he managed to find in everyday things. The sunshine warm on his face, the sound of the song birds, a kind word, a comforting embrace, these were the things he called on when he needed to smile. Even when he was hurting, even when he was sad, he smiled. When he had been struck for some unknown wrong, he had just smiled, refusing to let them see him cry. When he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, he just remembered the good things and smiled his way through it._

_In silence he wondered just how long he could keep smiling. Smiling and pushing the pain away. He just had to keep smiling._

**Bring on the wonder, we got it all wrong. W****e pushed you down deep in our souls for too long**

_Monotony.__ That seemed an appropriate word for Mello's life right now. He had risen through the ranks of the Mafia in an astoundingly short time and even found a trace of __Near__. But when he really stopped to consider it all, none of it mattered. He would go home in the evening anticipating Matt's reaction to his news, just as he had always gone to brag to Matt the moment they got test scores back if he had beaten __Near__, only to find the cold and unfamiliar apartment empty. It served him well, for what it was worth. It helped him detach, gave him something to draw from when he needed it, but when he went out walking at three in the morning because he couldn't sleep in the empty apartment he wondered if it was really worth it._

_The guys in the mob knew him to be heartless in his judgement, ruthless when he killed, and unwavering in his resolve. He had Matt to thank for that. He detached from the rest of the world to escape the redheaded shadow that seemed to follow him wherever he went. What they didn't see was him reconnecting when he got back. They didn't see him walk silently through the shabby apartment, hating it for not being just a little darker and a little warmer, for not having cracks in the paint in the right places, for the carpet not being ugly enough, for the floor being devoid of tech-junk and cigarette butts. They never saw him neglect eating in favour of going for a walk, never returning before two in the morning. They never saw him sit on the couch – there was no bed in this apartment – and stare out the window, just watching the stars. No one saw it._

_They didn't realize that when he laughed, he wasn't really laughing and that when he smiled it was just a well painted mask. But why should they notice? It wasn't their problem. All they knew was that they had a new boss and that he was more vicious than any they had ever served under. They knew that if they disrespected him he would kill them, that if they screwed up he would kill them,__ that__ if they failed he would kill them, and that was all they needed to know. And a part of Mello was glad for that; they were just dumb brutes for the most part anyway. But some small part of him wished that one of them would notice. That someone would notice._

_Staring up at the window from his place on the pavement he sighed and turned away. He couldn't face the apartment right now._

**I don****'****t have th****e time for a drink from the ****cup,**** l****et's rest for a while 'til our souls catch us up**

_Matt looked up and immediately his eyes caught on a familiar stranger across the bar. The small boy was dwarfed by the men around him, but he showed no sign of fear. Quite the contrary, his piercing blue eyes screamed control. The men surrounded him not as a threat or even as protection, but because he was the boss, head of a pack of snarling dogs. And they would obey him just like well trained dogs, even if it cost them their lives._

_But there was something else there. There was a hollowness that Matt hadn't seen in a long time. The gaze was so cold, as though part of the boy had been torn away. Matt remembered vaguely seeing laughter in those soulless eyes, but that had been a long time ago. He felt something in him break as he watched one of the laughing men elbow the boy in black and saw the boy turn, rosary swinging from his neck, to smile up at him. Did the brute know that smile was __fake__? Matt doubted it. No one had ever been able to tell that but him._

_Suddenly he found that frozen blue gaze locked on his. He nearly fell from his stool as he flinched away, but he managed to keep still. In all the years the gamer had known Mello, the blonde's eyes had never looked that haunted. His expression tol__d Matt what his voice could not;__ his eyes questioned him from across the room. "I'm here. Can you see me?" But it only lasted a moment and then he looked away._

_Matt rose quietly, telling the man he was with that he was going home. The older man, another bright young techie working for the police, followed him out. He told Matt over and over that he needn't worry about the mob guys, that they wouldn't do anything. But he didn't understand. Matt told him he wasn't afraid of them, it had just been a while and there was someone he didn't want to see. The brunette nodded in understanding as the redhead stole one last glance at the slender blonde among the giants. He was surprised, but he didn't question the young hacker he had come to know as Sam. Instead he just stood at the door of the bar, watching his retreating back until he was out of sight._

**Bring on the wonder, b****ring on the song. ****I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long**

_Mello could see his breath rising in puffs as he kicked at the snow around his feet. It was well below freezing and he knew he would get sick if he stayed out here, but he couldn't face going back to the apartment right now. Instead he wandered on down the street. There was a bar down this way that his usual Mafia crowd avoided like the plague. It was owned by a Cousin his men didn't get along with. Really he wasn't a bad guy. He never gave Mello any problems, though that was probably because the boy practically owned the place, and he kept out of Mello's business._

_At least it would be warm there. At least he wouldn't see Matt there. The Cousin who owned the place was too used to Mello's haunted stare and sharp temper to say anything to him, but he knew the boy's favourite drink and even what to give him depending on his mood. Mello didn't have to say a word anymore. But he knew he could if he wanted to, and that was a relief to his burdened heart. Besides, he knew that none of what he said would ever leave the building. The old man reminded him a bit of Roger at times, and perhaps that's what made him talk._

_The minute he walked in out of the late night snow storm Filip knew the young boss was in a talking mood, so he led him to a table in the back away from the bar, brought him a shot of vodka, still amazed that anyone so young could drink it straight, and sat down across from him. Mello just took the glass in his hands and stared at it. Without looking up he said, "I'm thinking of going home" and fell silent._

_Filip frowned, wrinkles deepening across his grandfatherly face. It took a moment before realization dawned. The boy had mentioned something like this once before. He had left someone dear to him at home. "This is about your girl."_

_Mello kept himself from cringing and just nodded. It was a natural assumption._

_"Ah," Filip nodded knowingly. He had a heavy accent that flooded Mello with old memories. "If I may be so bold as to say it, go home. From the sound of it she means more to you than any of this." He swept his arms out as though to encompass the snowbound city. "Who knows if you will find another like __her.__ So go home."_

_Again Mello nodded. The old man was right. "Thank you, Filip."_

_Without a backward glance Mello got up and left. Filip just watched him go, smiling and murmuring under his breath "Good luck, little one."_

_Mello didn't know it then, but that would be the last time he saw his confidant. The old man died a week later never knowing if Mello had taken his last bit of advice._

**Bring on the wonder, we got it all wrong. ****We pushed you down deep in our souls, so hang on**

_Matt tore the tourniquet away from his arm, hating himself for all of it. Desperately he reached for the razorblade that had slowly become his method of crying. His left forearm was littered with scars old and new. He didn't know exactly when it had started, but he knew it would probably kill him some day. He had quit his job working for the police and erased all record of 'Samuel Johnson.' He just couldn't take it anymore. As he sank the blade into his flesh he just wanted it to be over. _

_Blood pooled around the blade as __he__ drug it across the sensitive skin on the inside of his forearm. Silently he watched the crimson liquid spill over and __drip__ onto the floor and into the sink. Again he buried the blade in his arm, pressing as hard as he could, driving it deeper. Another stream of crimson joined the first as it raced with gravity to splatter the floor. Again and again he buried the blade in his arm, each time putting more force behind it. Each time more blood ran down his arm to pool on the floor and he felt himself slip a little further. By the last cut he already felt light headed. Darkness was gnawing at the edges of his vision and he couldn't hold on. Carefully he put the blade back in its place and closed the medicine cabinet. He didn't bother bandaging his wounds and he paid no heed to the blood flowing freely down his arm to drip from his finger tips. Without knowing why he stumbled to the bedroom he and Mello had shared and lay down. He really couldn't stand anymore and everything was dark, but that was alright. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep and not dream. Sleep and not wake up. Just sleep. Just let it all be over. Let it all end._

**Bring on the wonder, bring on the song. ****I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long**

_Mello stood down on the pavement, staring up at the familiar window. He knew Matt was still there. Matt didn't know it, but the blonde had been keeping tabs on at least that aspect of his life. There was no way Mello was going to lose him for good._

_A million questions flooded the blonde as he stood there staring up into the gently falling snow. Would Matt have changed? Would he take him back? Had he found someone new? Maybe that guy he was with at the bar a few months back. Even if he hadn't, would he want Mello back? Could they go back to how they used to be? What if Matt didn't want him back? What if he turned him away? There was a fear in his heart that taunted him, telling him he was too weak to do this. He was more afraid than he had ever been in the mob._

_But for all the fear and what ifs he knew Filip was right. Who knew if he would ever find anyone like __Matt?__ In reality he knew he wouldn't. __All the more reason to try.__ He searched his pocket for a moment before coming up with the key he had thought he would never use again. With a final glance up at the building and then around him at the frozen city he started for the stairs. Whatever was going to happen would happen, but he had to go up there first._


	11. Confessional?

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 11. I know I haven't posted in nearly a week. I have chapter 12 done too, but I probably won't put it up until tomorrow afternoon. I wrote that one first, actually, but I needed something between it and the last chapter and this chapter had to come somewhere. Just to clarify, the now chapters are thus far on day three. There aren't any gaps in the time line. The then chapters, however, are all over the place. Anywho, I'm not sure how well this turned out - I've had a hard time sleeping which has led to writer's block - but I'll let you judge. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles, AlisterRainbow, Lyn, and Trinny Dream for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Do I really need to say it?

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Midmorning sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting dappled patches of brightness and shadow over the sleeping boys. Slowly blue eyes fluttered open and looked over to where the other boy still slumbered, snoring slightly. Rolling his eyes, Mello turned over to face Matt more fully and flicked the end of his nose. The younger boy scrunched up his face and opened his eyes to glare sleepily at the blonde.

"Was that necessary?" he yawned.

"It's after eight," Mello replied.

"Good," Matt said, turning over with a yawn. "All the more reason to go back to sleep."

He groaned as he felt the older boy move closer. Suddenly there was a weight on his side and sharp elbows digging into his ribs as Mello leaned on him. "Get up. We do actually have things to get done."

"More Kira stuff?" Matt questioned, sitting up and dumping Mello off of him.

"That, among other things," was the blonde's highly unspecific answer. Far from being put off by Matt's rough treatment, Mello was already up and headed for the shower.

With a coy grin Matt followed only to be told that they had work to do and have the door closed in his face. But if Matt was put off by this, he didn't show it. Instead he merely smirked and wandered out to the living room where his system was still strewn across the floor. Irritating Mello was one of his favourite pass-times, simply because he knew he was the only one who could do so without being shot.

What finally did wipe the grin from his face was Mello's subtle proclamation as he rummaged through the cabinets later in the morning. Matt had just come back into the room after retrieving some cables he needed from the room at the end of the hall when Mello announced "By the way, I'll be home today."

At first Matt was simply confused. "What do you mean? What time?"

"No," Mello said, turning to face him and leaning against the counter. "I'm not leaving."

"Oh," Matt said, trying not to sound guilty. He was already hurting, his body nagging at him to just take the damn pills and get it over with. "Cool."

Mello's expression, however, told him that this was not something he should be happy about. Like a large predatory cat, Mello sunk from kitchen to stand behind Matt where he was crouched over a big, white box with a grid of flashing lights in four colours on the side of it. He saw the gamer tense at his approach and noted it with cold satisfaction. Matt was nervous, which just helped prove his case.

"Why don't you take a break and get something to eat?" Mello said calmly. "You have to be hungry by now. After all, you did skip breakfast."

"It's not even noon," Matt answered without looking up. Mello knew his normal eating habits and he knew Matt would never miss a meal if he had the choice, but Matt knew that if he tried to eat anything right now he'd just throw up.

"Suit yourself," Mello shrugged as he plopped down on the couch. It was the only place in the room that was completely devoid of cables, and that had only been through his insistence. He opened the file folder in his hand and leafed through the papers in it. He wasn't really looking at them, he was watching Matt and from the looks of things the redhead had noticed. The gamer had shifted from the way he normally held himself, almost as though he was trying to look bigger. He was aware of just how thin he had become, then. And the fact that he was trying to hide it just made it even more suspicious. Mello wondered if he had somehow missed the fresh marks he knew should have been on Matt's arm. Although, the simple fact that he favoured his right hand didn't mean he couldn't have used that arm knowing Mello wouldn't check it. Mello could shoot left-handed, and he knew that with the exception of writing and sketching Matt was just as proficient with his left hand as his right. It wouldn't be that difficult to hold a needle steady.

"Matt," the blonde purred coldly. The redhead cringed. "Come here a second."

"I thought you wanted this done a sap," the techie replied by way of an excuse.

Mello rolled his eyes. Matt could find an excuse for practically anything. "A few seconds won't hurt anything. I just want to check something."

"This again?" Matt whined. "We did this yesterday. You know you're not gonna find anything."

"Right arm too this time," Mello told him as the gamer pushed up his left sleeve.

"Come on, Mel," Matt said. He did as he was told and almost laughed bitterly at Mello's mildly surprised expression when he found both Matt's arms to be clean. What Mello didn't know wouldn't hurt either of them. At least, for now it wouldn't. When the blonde finally nodded and released him he stood. "You know, I've realized this can wait." He gestured to the endless ribbon of wire and electronics at his feet. "I'm going out."

Mello gazed up at him with confusion written all over his face. "Where?"

"Church," Matt replied.

The blonde just stared. "Confessional?"

"Something like that," Matt grinned.

"But you don't…" Blue eyes looked him over once, twice, thrice, as though searching for an explanation. "Fuck, Matt. What did you _do_?"

"A lot," Matt replied with a soft laugh. "Pick something. Call it superstition. After all, it always seems to help you. Why don't you come with me? Teach me to pray before I get Kiraed."

Mello nodded, still seemingly confused. The image of Matt in a church was just weird. Still, if Matt wanted to learn to pray, who was Mello to tell him no? "Alright. Let's go."

Matt nodded once and moved to the counter to pick up their coats from where they had been slung the day before. The black one he tossed at Mello before slipping his on and making his way to the door where he stood watching the older boy with a bemused smirk. Really he just wanted to understand, but if Mello wanted to take it as a miraculous conversion Matt wasn't going to crush his hopes just yet. Besides, it did always seem to help Mello.


	12. Passion and Pain

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 12. I don't know what to say about this except that I feel bad for Matt. That first night he mentions in the first chapter? This is the morning after. It's a little odd, but so are they. I like it a lot better than last chapter. That's it. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles and AlisterRainbow for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** You're all smart people, I think you get it.

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_Mello sat up with a jolt, fear coursing through his veins as the previous night came back to him. Passion, lust, a blatant disregard for any sort of morality. Matt was still asleep, curled up contently beside him. So contently, in fact, that a small smile had pasted itself across his freckled face. Just looking at him made Mello feel sick._

_Quietly he got up, careful not to wake the sleeping redhead. He ached something awful and he felt like he needed a shower. Badly. Suddenly he was very aware of his nakedness and it bothered him more than it ever had. He had never been shy or self-conscious, but right now he felt ashamed of both his body and himself. His rosary lay on the small bedside table next to a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and he snatched it up, hoping feverishly that perhaps prayer might do him some good. More than anything, though, he just wanted to be clean. For some reason he couldn't bear the idea of walking through the apartment nude, even if it was just from here to the bathroom and even if Matt was the only other person there and still sleeping. Not really knowing why he pulled an oversized t-shirt from a stack of clean clothes belonging to Matt. It was obvious that they belonged to the redhead because weren't black and they were still stacked on the floor instead of having been put away. The shirt was huge, one that Matt slept in when it was cold, and it easily fell midway down his thigh, but he still didn't feel quite right. Perhaps because he was wearing Matt's clothes. Still, it was better than nothing and it was just for now. Clutching his rosary tightly and tugging at the hem of the shirt as though in an attempt to make it longer, he crept from the room._

_When Matt woke half an hour later he found that the spot where Mello had been sleeping was empty and cold. Glancing over he saw that the rosary was gone from the table as well. The door was slightly ajar and the faint sound of running water could be heard from down the hall. The gamer frowned as he realized he had missed Mello waking up. This upset him partially because he hadn't wanted to wake up alone and partially because he had known there was a good chance the blonde would be upset. This was Mello, after all, and Mello was Catholic. And what they had done the previous night was defiantly amoral to anyone looking at it from a Catholic standpoint. Matt knew that and he figured that was why Mello had woken so early and taken his rosary with him when he went to shower._

_Silently he got up, not feeling nearly as self-conscious as Mello had, and wandered down the hall. He found that the bathroom door was closed and gingerly tried to turn the knob. He knew there was a possibility Mello would throw something at him for just coming in at this point, but he didn't care. The older boy was probably upset. He frowned when the door wouldn't open. It was locked and he could hear something tapping against the other side when he pushed on it. Mello had hung his rosary from the doorknob. Maybe it was best just to let him be, Matt reconsidered. Let him try and wash it all away, pray over it, and he would come out when he was good and ready. Until then, Matt would be patient. He already knew that getting through today would take patience anyway. He had known that before any of it had started, known it from the first time Mello had kissed him and then refused to look him in the eye. Shame was not something the blonde had been accustomed to, but when it came to this Matt knew there were moments when he was overcome by it._

_What Matt hadn't expected was for Mello to come back wearing one of his t-shirts and a towel around his waist with his damp hair still clinging to his face, and then bolt as soon as he saw the redhead was awake. The t-shirt and the towel were excessively modest for the uninhibited blonde and the intense terror in his eyes had been deeply disturbing to the gamer. He had expected shame, maybe even fear, but not like that. Again Matt followed the path the blonde had taken, this time fully clothed, more for Mello's sake than out of decency since he too __wanted a shower. Once again Mello had locked himself in the bathroom since that was the place where it was least likely Matt would disturb him. Matt, however, was more persistent than that. He leaned back against the door and slid down, knowing he would be there for a while._

_"Mel?" he called softly. No answer. "Mel, I know you're in there. Just listen to me for a minute."_

_A single word was audible through the door, muffled by Mello's hands over his face so that Matt barely caught it. "Lust."_

_"Passion," Matt countered gently. "Mello, it's alright."_

_"…isn't …sin," was all the redhead caught of the next reply._

_"Mello," he said pleadingly, his voice softer than the blonde had ever heard it. "Please come out of there and talk to me. I know you're upset. I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_There was a choked sob and "You didn't." Still, Mello stayed put._

_With a sigh that was torn between sorrow and frustration, Matt turned and pressed his palms and his forehead to the door. "Come on. I just want to talk." He took a deep breath and added, "You don't even have to look at me if you don't want to. Just talk to me."_

_There was a pause as though Mello was considering this, then a click from the doorknob and Matt backed up. The blonde was looking pointedly at the floor as he slowly opened the door. He was trembling, still clad only in the t-shirt and towel, and strands of golden hair clung to the tear tracks that stained his cheeks. Matt simply opened his arms and caught the boy, who flung himself into the open embrace before all but collapsing. Carefully the redhead sank down so that he was kneeling, still cradling the sobbing blonde who had buried his face in his shoulder._

_"Shh," Matt whispered, stroking Mello's hair. He seemed more like a broken child than the cold genius Matt had come to know. "It's alright. It's alright. It's ok, Mel. Calm down."_

_Mello choked out something about sin and lust and damnation that was so muffled Matt couldn't decipher it. But the regret in his voice was unmistakable and it hurt the hacker to hear it._

_"Mel, if I had known it would hurt you this much…" Matt said calmly. He didn't know how to finish that statement. It wasn't as though this was his fault. He hadn't pushed Mello at all. Somehow Matt knew Mello was aware of that. Perhaps that more than anything was what hurt the blonde._

_Matt felt the arms around his waist tighten. Mello was speaking again, but he still couldn't understand it. He could feel the tears soaking his shirt and the violence of the boy's trembling. He could feel the pain that radiated from him in waves. Matt knew Mello was drowning. All he could do was just sit there and hold him and stroke his hair and shush him. He had some idea of how things would go from here. Mello would continue to sob for awhile and then when the worst of the storm had passed he would go hide somewhere and pray until he either came back on his own or Matt got worried and went to find him._

_The aftermath of their first kiss had startled Matt. He had been with Mello in the orphanage when he had first started to realize his attraction to men and he had seen what that had done to the older boy. Still, he had been shocked and hurt. He supposed he had assumed it would be different with him, simply because they were so close. Now was no different than that. He had anticipated a bad reaction, but not to this extreme. Maybe it was that they had always been so close, maybe it was that he had known for so long that Mello liked him. Hell, he had known Mello liked him a long time before Mello had flat out told him and a long time before it had ever occurred to him to question his own sexuality. But Mello's distress was due to a religious matter and that was something Matt had never understood._

_He could hear a steady stream of words in Latin as Mello shook more violently. It was more than Matt could take. "Mello, calm down. The world hasn't ended, you're not dead, so calm the fuck down and talk to me."_

_"Sorry," Mello choked, still in Latin and obviously taken aback by Matt's abrupt change in moods. He let go of the younger boy and backed off, moving to the other side of the hall where he spoke without looking at the redhead. "Sorry."_

_"What's wrong?" Matt asked, knowing full well what was bothering the blonde._

_"You wouldn't understand," Mello assured him. He sniffed and scrubbed at his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Look, I, uh, I'm going out. I just…"_

_"You're going to church," Matt said bluntly, disapproval and disappointment evident in his voice. "To confessional."_

_"…yeah," Mello nodded. "I just…"_

_"Go," Matt said, not looking at the older boy._

_Mello risked a glance up and flinched. Matt wasn't looking at him, he was just studying the scars on his hands. Two thin lines, very easy to miss, one on each hand from the base of the nail on the pointer finger down to the wrist. The blonde still didn't know where they'd come from, but he knew them well. _

_Finally the redhead looked up at him. "Why are you still here? Go. Confess your sins or whatever." He rested his forehead against his left arm, which he had draped across his knees. "I don't hear you moving."_

_Hesitantly Mello reached out to him. "Matt…"_

_"Go!" Matt all but shouted. "I'm not gonna hear the end of this damnation shit until you go. Confess. Go pray for forgiveness. Whatever'll make me not have to listen to you. Now."_

_Mello just nodded. Matt listened as the older boy slipped back into their room and got dressed before leaving. When finally he heard the front door close, he buried his face in his hands and just sat there like that until enough of the pain passed for him to move again. He suddenly found himself wanting a shower. A really, really hot shower. Scald the rejection away and go back to sleep. It wasn't like Mello would be home anytime soon._


	13. The Chapel and the Child

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 13. Why do I always end up posting at 2am? Anyway, I had a right bit of trouble with this. So this is probably really inacurate as far as the whole Catholic church bit. I've only ever been to mass once. I was 7 and my best friend asked me to go to her confirmation... at least I think that's what it was. I'm not Catholic and I know in my church people aren't baptized until they're 12. Anyway, I've never been to confessional, either. I know nothing about it... at all. Everything I know comes from movies and the internet. I'm as clueless as Matt, lol. Anywho, now that I've rambled for a bit, on with the chapter.

**Edit: Yes, this just ends. I hated the end of it and it was inaccurate so i cut it. It wasn't necessary, so whatever.**

Thank you to Trinny Dream, xxsilenced, XxMailxXJeevesxXMihailxXKeehlxX, Desdemona Kakalose, Hair-Noodles, and AlisterRainbow for reviewing! And for Mail, the song in chapter 9 is Some of Us by Starsailor. Thanks again!

**Disclaimer:** ... I'm sick of saying this.

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"Hey Mel?" 

"Hmm?"

It was cold out and they'd been walking for twenty minutes. Matt knew Mello usually walked to church so that was what he had insisted on doing, but now he was regretting it. He had never understood why Mello was so fond of cold weather.

"Why do you go to confessional?" the redhead asked.

The blonde paused for a moment before answering. "Confessional is a way of admitting you've screwed up and asking forgiveness. I go because I believe that if I admit what I've done then maybe God will forgive me."

"Only maybe?" Matt grinned.

Mello shook his head and smiled faintly at Matt's scepticism. "I've done some pretty terrible things. Being a mob boss entails a few more sins than most people accumulate. Most people have never killed anyone, let alone kept a list."

"Have you ever said anything to the priest about your… profession?" Matt teased.

"I'm not supposed to tell you that, but yes," Mello said, smile broadening as Matt's eyes widened.

"And he didn't have you arrested?"

"No," the blonde replied calmly. "The way it works is that whatever is said in the confidence of Confessional is never revealed. Plus father Gabriel is used to having a congregation full of Mafia men, so that helps."

"Have you ever mentioned… us?" Matt asked hesitantly.

Mello eyed him suspiciously. "Yes. What's with the questions?"

Matt shrugged. "I've never done this before. I'm not sure what to say. Hell, I don't even know how to pray like a Catholic."

"There's no specific way you have to pray," Mello told him. "And as far as Confessional, just say whatever you want. You're there to confess your sins. I can't tell you what to say."

Matt nodded. "Just wondering."

"There's the church," Mello said, pointing to a large imposing structure up ahead.

When they reached the church Mello pushed the door open and led Matt inside. It was nearly empty, which wasn't really surprising considering it was a Thursday afternoon. There were a few people in the pews, some kneeling in prayer while others sat quietly reading the Bible. Mello spotted the priest, father Gabriel, almost immediately. Not that he was hard to spot, with his black attire and well kept grey hair, but Matt certainly hadn't recognised him.

"Father Gabriel," Mello called quietly, not wanting to disturb the others in the large sanctuary.

"Ah, Mello," the man replied, coming over to where they stood. "How are you my son?"

"I am well, thank you father," Mello replied. He gestured to the distracted redhead behind him. Matt was still studying every detail of the sanctuary. "This is Matt."

The redhead looked back at his name and noticed for the first time the man's close proximity to them. He took a small, uncertain step back.

"Oh," the priest said with a nod and a look of recognition that Matt immediately decided he didn't like. "So this is the one. Welcome my dear boy. I have never seen you here before."

"He hasn't been to church since he was," Mello glanced back at him, "nine? His second to last foster family."

"Ah, I see," father Gabriel nodded. "What brings you here today, Matt?"

"I, um…" Matt stumbled over the memories of his foster families.

"He wanted to come," Mello answered for him. Matt had that far away look on his face that meant he was reliving something he'd rather forget. The redhead jumped slightly as the blonde laid a hand on his shoulder. "He's never been to mass before or to confessional."

Using the grip on the gamer's shoulder to his advantage, Mello pushed him foreword. He wasn't sure why Matt seemed so apprehensive, but Mello had confidence it would be alright. Matt, however, didn't seem so sure. The last time he had been in a church, he had been nine years old. The last time he had been in a church, it had been with people who abandoned him a week later, sending him on to a family that nearly killed him. But he was being ridiculous. He was twenty years old, he wasn't a child anymore.

"I see," the old priest nodded. "Come on, son." He gestured for Matt to follow as he started off across the room. Hesitantly Matt followed him, glancing back to see Mello take a place in the pews and open his Bible which he had brought with him from home. "Your friend there has told me a bit about you," the old man said in an attempt to put Matt at ease.

Matt nodded. "I know."

"He's a good boy," the man smiled. "Faithful to a fault. He's just a bit misguided."

"Because of the Mafia or because of me?" the redhead asked quietly. He couldn't help it.

"The Mafia. I always hate seeing them claim young people with as much potential as he had," the man said, glancing over at Matt. "As for you and his relationship with you, it isn't my place to judge. I leave that to God."

Matt felt marginally relieved at that. "I'm mafia, too, just so you know."

The priest nodded. "I figured as much. You came from the same place he did, didn't you?"

This time it was Matt's turn to nod.


	14. Eyes

**A/N:** Hola! Chapter 14. Ok, a few notes on this. _Italic_ is Mello's thoughts, **_bold italic_** is a flashback, and normal type is present time. Some of this is repeated from last chapter, you don't have to read that again if you don't want to. Also, Nevada is Matt's home state and Mello is from the provence of Warminsko-Mazurskie in northern Poland. That's just where I saw them as being from. I was working on Truth (which I may post another chapter of soon), which is what inspired the end of this chapter. Anyway, I'll shut up now.

Thank you to skye.fell.over.me, Erin, blonde-de-nuit, AlisterRainbow, Yumiaria Rei Yamashita, Trinny Dream, and Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note belongs to Takeshi Obata and since I am neither male nor Japanese that's obviously not me.

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_What have I done? He's sick again, I can tell. Last time it was because I left him. Abandoned him, he said. Either way it hurt him too badly for him to handle it. He's slipping again. He's losing weight, he isn't eating, he doesn't sleep well, not to mention he really doesn't have much interest in_ _anything_ _anymore. __Nothing.__ He's quit the video games, says they make his head hurt, something about the noise and the lights. He wears his goggles when he works, too, because of the light from the computer screen. More than once I've come home to find him sprawled on the couch with all the shades pulled and the lights off, curled up on his laptop. Migraines, I'd imagine. __Or withdrawal headaches.__ He did that last time… I don't want to think about that._

_Last time was horrible. The damn morphine was almost too much for him. He almost didn't come out of it. When I found him I didn't think he was going to wake up. I thought he was gone. He didn't even twitch. __Nothing.__ It wasn't like I was quiet coming in – I wasn't sure how much he had changed and I didn't want him to panic and shoot me or something. I yelled his name and he didn't answer. I thought he wasn't home. I'd have rather come back to an empty apartment than that. __God, the blood.__ I didn't think he would wake up. I couldn't even go near him; I'm not sure why, I just couldn't. I was afraid to touch him, I was afraid if I did he'd be cold. I was completely convinced he'd bled out. There was so much blood… too much blood. He shouldn't have lived. I should have lost him that day. _

Mello's hand found his rosary, not noticing the sideways glance it earned him from Matt. _Thank you, Father, for giving him back to me. Let me keep him here just a little longer. You know how much I need him. _Finally realizing he had slipped into a prayer, Mello glanced up and dropped his rosary, instead placing a hand on Matt's wrist. The gamer was tense, but that wasn't surprising. It was Matt's asking to go to church that had been the surprise.

_He seems so apathetic about everything. There was a time when we were younger that I had to literally drag him away from his tech-junk. And that's not the worst of it. I understand how his mind works when he's sober… even when he's drunk. He doesn't ignore me if I don't want him to. I know how to get his attention._ Mello could feel that tell tale warmth in his cheeks and hoped Matt would just think he was cold. _He doesn't respond to anything. __Nothing at all._

_It's almost like he's dead. His eyes are dead. There's nothing. The odd spark every now and then, but that's all. It's just like how his eyes were then. __Like staring into a black hole._

"Hey Mel?"

"Hmm?"

Mello glanced back over at Matt and let go of his wrist. The younger boy had an odd look about him. One of those sparks.

"Why do you go to confessional?" the redhead asked.

Mello paused, considering how best to phrase his response so Matt wouldn't dismiss it. "Confessional is a way of admitting you've screwed up and asking forgiveness. I go because I believe that if I admit what I've done then maybe God will forgive me."

"Only maybe?" Matt grinned.

The blonde shook his head, blonde locks falling into his eyes. He allowed himself a faint grin at the trace of Matt's usual sceptical self. "I've done some pretty terrible things. Being a mob boss entails a few more sins than most people accumulate. Most people have never killed anyone, let alone kept a list."

"Have you ever said anything to the priest about your… profession?" Matt teased.

"I'm not supposed to tell you that, but yes," Mello said, smile broadening as Matt's eyes widened.

"And he didn't have you arrested?" The younger boy seemed awestruck.

"No," the blonde replied calmly. "The way it works is that whatever is said in the confidence of Confessional is never revealed. Plus father Gabriel is used to having a congregation full of Mafia men, so that helps."

Matt paused and studied the ground for a moment before asking, "Have you ever mentioned… us?"

The question set Mello on edge. "Yes. What's with the questions?"

Matt shrugged. "I've never done this before. I'm not sure what to say. Hell, I don't even know how to pray like a Catholic."

"There's no specific way you have to pray," Mello told him. "And as far as Confessional, just say whatever you want. You're there to confess your sins. I can't tell you what to say."

Matt nodded. "Just wondering."

"There's the church," Mello said, pointing with relief to a large old church that loomed at the end of the block. It had become a welcome sight for his weary heart. Quietly Mello led the redhead through the doors, across the narthex, and into the main sanctuary where he spotted the priest who'd heard all his worst confessions. "Father Gabriel."

"Ah, Mello," the man replied, coming over to where they stood. "How are you my son?"

"I am well, thank you father," Mello replied. He gestured to the distracted redhead behind him. Matt was still studying every detail of the sanctuary. "This is Matt."

The priest looked him over with a nod, as though confirming this was the boy the blonde mob boss had so often spoken of. "Oh. So this is the one. Welcome my dear boy. I have never seen you here before."

"He hasn't been to church since he was," Mello glanced back at him. He was hoping Matt would supply him with an age, but the redhead looked lost. "nine? His second to last foster family."

"Ah, I see," father Gabriel nodded. "What brings you here today, Matt?"

The question seemed to startle the techie. "I, um…"

"He wanted to come," Mello answered for him. Matt had that far away look on his face that meant he was reliving something he'd rather forget. The redhead jumped slightly as the blonde laid a hand on his shoulder. "He's never been to mass before or to confessional."

Using the grip on the gamer's shoulder to his advantage, Mello pushed him foreword. He wasn't sure why Matt seemed so apprehensive, but he had confidence it would be alright.

"I see," the old priest nodded. "Come on, son." He gestured for Matt to follow as he started off across the room. Mello watched them for a moment before slipping into one of the pews and turning to his well worn Bible.

It had been opened, he could tell. He let it fall open to the last place anyone had read from and smiled. Proverbs 10:12. Matt would find that verse. Mello knew he would hear about it later, too. Silently he skimmed over the pages, not really reading so much as focusing on his thoughts.

_"Love __covereth__ all sins." __Typical Matt.__ He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand any of it. Does he have any idea how much time I've spent here? __Probably not.__ He doesn't know._

_I don't understand why I'm here. Why me? Why did He save me? Matt would say it was because I was smarter than the rest of those kids. __Matt and his Darwinian ideas.__ He's wrong. Not that I know what happened to the others once they got us out. They __couldn't've__ turned out worse than me, though. __Fucking gay mob boss.__ Why did He let me live?_

Mello's hand tightened around his cross until his nails would have pierced the skin were it not for his gloves. Old, unwanted images flashed through his mind. Other little boys about his age, blonde like him, watching him with big, scared blue eyes. They were always watching him. He was the only one who seemed to know how to stay alive in that hell. He had the answers they needed. Watching. They were always watching. Even now, sometimes he could swear they were watching him. Other eyes so much like his own, focused on him as though pleading for direction, for a way to make it out alive. He could see their faces as though they were right there in front of him, but they had no names. He had never learnt their names. If he knew their names he might get attached and he couldn't let that happen. That was as good as killing himself.

But there was another set of eyes, too. This pair was green, peering out at him from beneath an unruly mop of auburn hair. He had snapped at Matt countless times when he first arrived at Wammy. Always it was for staring at him, watching him. He couldn't bear even having Matt look at him. There had been another little blue-eyed blonde boy at Wammy when he was there, though Mello remembered him only faintly. He had avoided the boy like the plague and Matt didn't understand why. Matt had also failed to understand his aversion to mirrors. The redhead hadn't gotten it. For years he hadn't understood. Mello was fine around the girls; they didn't bother him in the least. The boys, though. For the longest time Mello would leave the room anytime one of them looked at him for more than a few seconds.

Matt had known from the start that Mello was an odd case. That was why they had ended up in that hall with Near and the twins, Lena and Lisa. That was one complaint against him in the orphanage that had taken him after it was realized his father was dead. He was incredibly intelligent, they had said, but they couldn't teach him because he shied away from people. They couldn't put him in classes with other children and he refused to go to class if the teacher was a man. They had been relieved, if not slightly apprehensive, when Roger had come for him. A lady aid from Wammy had been with the old man, Mello remembered. It had been an attempt to make him feel a bit safer. It failed.

He remembered his first fight with Matt. They had been young, so it had begun as a petty argument.

_**"Stop staring at me!" Mello shouted for the fifth time.**_

_**Matt looked up at the irate blonde. "I wasn't even looking at you. I'm working on trig. Geez you're jumpy."**_

_**A black-socked foot kicked Matt's math book closed and the redhead looked back up at the blonde terror standing over him. **__**Typical.**__** He couldn't **__**so**__** much as glance at the newcomer without being accused of staring.**_

_**"I'm trying to do my homework," Matt grumbled, opening the book again.**_

_**Mello didn't budge. "In case you haven't noticed, you're in my room. Can't you go do your homework in your room?"**_

_**"I like being in here," Matt answered as he scribbled down an answer and started on the drawing to go with it. "I like having someone else around and you're the only one who doesn't mind me. Lisa and Lena are just off on their own planet, I swear. And have you ever tried talking to **__**Near**__**? It's not possible."**_

_**"So instead you choose to harass me?" Mello shot back. "What if I told you I don't want you here? **__**Hmm?**__** I don't want you around. Why can't you just leave me **__**alone!**__**"**_

_**Matt went rigid for a moment before dropping his gaze and hunching his shoulders defensively. His expression as he silently gathered his things reminded Mello of a kicked puppy. He had never seen Matt look so dejected. Granted he'd only been there for six months, but he'd never even seen Matt look remotely unhappy. That look told him he'd done something horribly wrong.**_

_**"Matt?"**_

_**The redhead flinched and moved a little quicker.**_

_**"Matt?" the blonde called again, tapping the boy lightly on the shoulder. He barely had time to duck as Matt swung his book at his head.**_

_**"I'm going! Just leave me alone!" Matt spat at him.**_

_**Mello, having always been confrontational, responded by shoving Matt as hard as he could against the wall. "What's wrong with you?"**_

_**The redhead laughed hollowly. The sound was chilling coming from such a young child. After all, Matt was only ten. "You're asking me? You're the one who freaks out every time anyone looks at you and you're asking what's wrong with **__**me?**__**"**_

_**The blonde didn't even bother with an answer. He simply punched the younger boy hard in the chest. **_

_**Blue eyes widened as Matt laughed. **__**Just laughed.**__** Mello had expected him to cry out or try to defend himself or something, but, short of **__**flinching**__** a little as he had his breath knocked away, Matt had done nothing of the sort. No, he just laughed. Who laughs when somebody punches them?**_

_**Infuriated, Mello hit him again and again, but Matt still just laughed. Finally when the freckled boy had sunk to the floor, still laughing despite the tears streaming down his face, Mello stopped. For a moment he simply watched as Matt lowered his head to rest against his knees, which he hugged tightly to his chest as though defending himself. His shoulders still shook with laughter, but it sounded different now, as though he was choking. Deciding he couldn't stand the spectacle, Mello crept from the **__**room,**__** leaving Matt curled up sobbing on the floor.**_

Mello still felt guilty remembering that. If he had known why Matt laughed when he hit him he might have stopped after the first blow. He hadn't realized it was a coping mechanism. Just as Mello had refused to learn names, Matt had laughed when struck. The next day had been a Saturday, so Mello didn't think much about not seeing Matt all day. Usually the redhead clung to him, but he reasoned that after the fight maybe he would finally back off. It wasn't as though they had been close or anything.

What had finally caught his attention was seeing Roger going into Matt's room that evening after the redhead skipped dinner. He had known Matt was a difficult case. All the kids in that wing were. They were all considered to be a danger to themselves and possibly others. He knew Matt had skipped all three meals that day, but he didn't pay it too much attention. At least, not until he heard the younger boy talking to Roger. The boy told the man what Mello had said, that he didn't want him around. He told the caretaker that Mello had hit him for not listening. Mello had managed to catch a glimpse of Matt before Roger chased him off. He had been smiling, even though he was crying silently.

_Matt, what did I do this time?_

Mello was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Matt behind him. The gamer was grinning sheepishly, no doubt having noticed the page Mello was staring at.

"Can we go home now?" he asked quietly, speaking in Polish as though afraid someone might hear him.

Mello grinned as he closed his Bible and pulled his coat back on. Matt's Polish was still terrible. "Sure," he replied flawlessly. "As soon as you learn to speak properly."

"Not fair," Matt whined, going back to English.

"Hey, I speak your language don't I?" Mello teased. Without waiting for Matt he walked to the door. He knew they looked foolish, but he didn't care. The trivial argument was a welcome distraction from his thoughts.

"We grew up in England! You bloody well better speak English," Matt replied. He was glad to be out of the church. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all. "And in case you forgot, we live in America. Where we speak English."

"Pft. Americans," Mello grumbled at him. "And we live in New York City where people speak any language you can name."

"Fine. I'll take you out to Nevada sometime and we'll see how you and your Polish do there," Matt quipped.

"Ok," Mello shot back. "Then we can go to Warminsko. And I won't translate for you."

That effectively shut the redhead up. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes before Mello's curiosity got the better of him. "Why were you so anxious to go home? It's not like you going to be struck by lightning or something. And no one there's going to be paying attention to what we're talking about, just so you know."

Matt shrugged. "Memories, I suppose. I haven't been in a church since I was nine. And there was the time one of my families left me at one."

The gamer had never mentioned that before, but Mello supposed it made sense. After all, Matt had lived in several church-run orphanages. The blonde nodded and they settled again into a comfortable silence, Mello watching in amusement as Matt tried to catch snowflakes. Maybe, for all that had gone wrong, maybe somewhere along the way something had gone right.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey, this is Lily. I just had a note for you all, since I figured I have your attention anyway. If you don't want to read this that's fine, but I thought I'd just throw it out there. Don't mess with painkillers. Not only does an addiction suck, it can seriously screw you up. Take my word for it, I know firsthand. Withdrawal sucks too. Hurts like hell. Every muscle, every joint, and the headaches feel like death. Worst part is the drugs themselves, even over the counter stuff. Acetaminophen (the main active ingredient in Tylenol and over the counter migraine aids) affects liver function and Naproxen Sodium (found in Aleve) eats your stomach lining. Second one's actually better for the addiction, because it makes you so sick you can't eat and you eventually give it up out of sheer desperation (motivated me to cold-turkey). Not trying to be scary or nag or anything, but it's serious stuff. I mean, it's safe enough in low doses (obviously) but when abused it can kill you. I've come pretty damn close, and it isn't worth it. Personally, I never want anyone to go through that. It's terrible. And for anyone who may be dealing with an addiction, get help. I know it's not easy, but it is necessary. Doesn't necessarily have to be a councilor, but maybe a parent, an older sibling, even a close friend. My girlfriend and my mother helped me get over it. But please, don't just ignore it. I'm willing to talk if anyone wants to. Anywho, that's really all I have to say. Sorry to be distracting and depressing, but since this story deals with painkiller addiction I thought I'd take a moment to address the real-life issue as well. Thanks for listening. Over and out.

Lily


	15. Save Me

**A/N: **Hola. Chapter 15. Ok, a few quick notes. _Italics _are thought. **_Bold italics _**are flashback. I'd also like to point out that the flash back is about two and a half years before the current time. And on that note, in the flashback Mello's 18 and Matt's 17. Mello reminds me of my ex in this chapter... Anywho, let's see who can figure out the title. It's a song reference. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Wammy's House, Memory-of-Melody, Hair-Noodles, and Trinny Dream for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Seriously...

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_

_God, the pain. I feel like I might collapse if I don't… no. Mello is still here. No. Not in front of him. I will _not _let him see me like that.__ It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. Bloody idiot, that's what I am. Why has he not left me yet?_

Matt noticed Mello smirking at him and stuck his tongue out at the blonde.

"Real mature, Matt," Mello replied, rolling his eyes. The redhead was still trying to catch snowflakes.

"Try it," Matt said, elbowing his older counterpart in the ribs. "You know you want to."

"Matt, I'm twenty-one," the blonde replied.

"So?" Matt grinned. "I'm twenty. What difference does that make?"

"You're acting like a child," Mello reprimanded. "I just want to go home and get something to eat. It's nearly three. You have to be starving."

Matt frowned. _If I tell him I'm not hungry he'll question me, but if I eat it'll just make me sick._ "Not really."

Mello narrowed his eyes and glanced sideways at the gamer. "You haven't eaten all day. Come to think of it, did you even eat yesterday?"

Matt hesitated just a second too long before nodding. Mello didn't buy it.

"Matt, we are going home and you are eating something. And don't lie to me. You know it never works."

Matt just sighed. _If only you knew._

The gamer didn't answer the blonde's demand, just scuffed the toe of his shoe along the sidewalk dejectedly and stopped catching snowflakes. Instead he completely ignored the tiny crystals as they clung to his hair and his eye lashes. Only Mello noticed, Matt was too lost in his thoughts.

_**"Matt."**_

_**"No."**_

_**"Damnit Matt, you do not have a say in this," Mello growled.**_

_**"Are you trying to kill me?" the redhead replied from where he lay curled up on the couch.**_

_**Mello set the bowl down on the floor at his feet and put a hand to the gamer's forehead. "It's a salad, Matt. It's not going to kill you. It's not even a salad. It's lettuce in a bowl. Eat it."**_

_**"Don't feel like it," Matt protested, turning away. "I'm not hungry. Just let me sleep."**_

_**"Matt, don't make me force you to eat it," the blonde threatened.**_

_**"Go away."**_

_**"You have a fever," Mello pointed out. "You're getting sick. You know why you're getting sick? You're weak. And you wanna know why you're so weak? Because you won't eat. Damnit, Matt. Stop being so bloody stubborn all the time."**_

_**"If I eat that, I'll get sick," Matt coughed. "You know that."**_

_**"It's lettuce," Mello said flatly. "Plain old lettuce. Doesn't get much more bland than that."**_

_**Matt just smiled up at him. He was trying. He may not have had any idea what he was doing, but he was trying. "Fine," Matt sighed. **_

_**It had been three days since Matt had eaten anything. Instead he had been overdosing to the point where just thinking about food made him nauseas. He had been throwing up blood, but Mello didn't need to know that detail. It would only make him worry more and Matt didn't think he could stand that. Mello had no idea how to treat an ulcer, either – **__**something Matt had learned because of the addiction. So here he was, reduced to a living skeleton, curled up on the couch with Mello trying to force feed him something the redhead knew would make him sick.**_

_**Mello watched the techie with genuine concern. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks were hollow, and Mello could see his ribs through his shirt. He was shivering too, but that wasn't surprising since he had a fever and he'd been complaining all day about being cold. The blonde still didn't understand how anyone could do that to themselves. At least the cutting had stopped. Matt had scared him pretty badly about a month before. He'd only been gone for an hour, but that was ample time for Matt to do something stupid. He thanked God he had come home when he had. He'd been able to stop the bleeding. Bleeding he knew how to handle. And stitches he knew how to handle. Six of them. Six for the one gash. He hadn't let Matt out of his sight for a week and he still didn't leave him at home by himself. Again he didn't understand how anyone could do that to themselves. **_

_**Matt was dying. It was painfully obvious to both of them. The gamer had already accepted that, a bit too easily for Mello's liking. It was harder to bring someone back from the edge if they lost hope. The blonde could see it even now. The light in the younger boy's eyes was fading. **_

_**"You'll be alright. Don't give up on me just yet," Mello soothed as he handed Matt a lettuce leaf out of the bowl and watched him nibble at it. Gently he swept the damp auburn hair back from the younger boy's face. Mello could tell he was in pain. The way he moved, it was evident that his joints hurt him. Just another sign of how dangerously thin he was, as though his appearance wasn't enough. He frowned for a moment as though considering something. "I almost think I should take you to a doctor after you blacked out this morning."**_

_**"Don't be stupid, Mel," Matt said seriously. "You can't do that. They'd want to know what happened. Too many questions. And they'd have a field day with the fact that neither of us has any available medical history. That and the fact that we legally don't exist. Oh, and we're living alone and I'm underage. Plus then there's doctor's bills and god knows we couldn't manage that. And then they'd want to put me in therapy or rehab or some stupid shit."**_

_**"The key word was 'almost'," Mello said with a sigh. "Just don't die on me. And don't pass out again."**_

_**"I'll try not to," Matt said solemnly as he resumed nibbling. "But I can't promise you anything."**_

_**"You're gonna be alright," Mello told him.**_

_**Matt just curled in on himself as much as his stiff joints and the limited space would allow. "You say that with such confidence."**_

_**"Do not give up on me," Mello demanded threateningly.**_

_**Again Matt sighed. "I'll try."**_

And he had tried and in time he had gotten better. But some scars ran deeper than cuts and addictions. The gashes healed, the addiction waned, but the depression just lay dormant. It was like fighting cancer; it didn't really go away, there were just periods of remission after which it came back with ten times the fury. He couldn't beat it. He would die trying.

"Matt?" Mello repeated for the third time.

"Hmm?"

"Lunch," the blonde said. "I'll cook."

"Just as long as there's no lettuce I'm ok with whatever," Matt told him without looking up.

Worry was evident in Mello's expression as he realized what Matt was hinting at. "I think maybe we have some instant rice or something. Do you want to talk?"

"Maybe when we get home," the techie sighed.

Mello just nodded. Just another obstacle. They'd get through it ok. After all, they'd always made it ok in the past.


	16. Oxycodone

**A/N:** Hola! Chapter 16. I don't really have too much to say this time. The song for the last title was by Unwritten Law, but when I looked it up again after reading one of the reviews I found that there are about a million songs called save me. Chapter nine, by the way, was Some of Us by Starsailor. The drug Matt's on was originally supposed to be Percocet, which is from the same family of drugs as morphine and it's a combination of Oxycodone and Acetaminophen, but I figure no one would know what it was. It's an opiate, because Oxycodone is an opiate. It's also really, really dangerous if you take too much. Like, stop-your-heart dangerous, which is why Mello's so upset. So now that I've rambled for a while, on with the chapter.

Thank you to SincerelyRainbow, Trinny Dream, AlisterRainbow, xxsilenced, skye.fell.over.me, and Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Death Note Matt and Mello would have had a lot more screentime.

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"So what is it this time?" Mello asked, watching Matt poke the mass of rice on his plate with a fork as though it might bite him. The blonde had learned the last time the gamer was sick that that was one of the only things he could eat when he was like this. 

Matt sighed and set his fork down, just staring at the table without really looking at it. He didn't look up until a slim, pale hand covered his own.

"Matt," Mello said worriedly. "Talk to me. Tell me something. Anything. Anything I should know, anything I can do to help."

"I've tried," Matt said softly. "I really have. I didn't want it to come to this again. You're gonna hate me."

Mello tightened his grip on Matt's hand. He could feel the scars from where he'd burned himself working. "No I won't. Just as long as it doesn't get to be like last time we'll be ok. Just talk to me."

"What do you want to know?" Matt asked, looking at their hands instead of at Mello.

"Drugs again?" the blonde inquired. Matt nodded and he continued. "What?"

"Oxycodone," the techie whispered, flinching as he waited for Mello's reaction.

Mello's eyes widened slightly. "Fuck, Matt. How much?"

"I'm not sure," Matt answered quietly.

"That's not good," Mello said. "How long?"

"Maybe four months," the gamer breathed.

"Where did you get it?" Mello asked.

Matt was silent. When Mello repeated the question, he tried to pull his hand back only to have the blonde take hold of his wrist. When he looked up Mello was watching him. The older boy kept his gaze looked on Matt's as he asked the next question. "Why?"

Matt shook his head and succeeded in taking his hand back, but when he moved to get up Mello rose too.

"Matt, please. I'm not going to be angry; I'm not going to leave. I just want to know why. What makes you do that?" the blonde protested.

Matt just smiled as he turned away. "I'm sure you'd rather not know."

The redhead stopped moving when he felt Mello's arms around his waist.

"Where are you going?" Mello asked hesitantly, pulling the younger boy back against him.

"I have a headache and I don't feel well because I haven't taken anything today," Matt told him quietly. "Although I don't figure you'll let me now."

"I'll let you," Mello said with a sigh. He didn't want to, but he knew it would be unwise to simply force Matt to stop taking something like that. In fact, it would be dangerous to do so. "But I'm going to watch you take it. I want to see just how much we're dealing with and make sure you're alright. And from now on I'm keeping track of how much you take and you only take it when I'm home so I can make sure nothing goes wrong. You're going to quit this before it gets any worse."

Matt just sighed and nodded. Mello's reaction had been better than he expected.

* * *

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Mello asked as he brushed Matt's auburn hair away from his freckled face. He knew there would be no answer; Matt had been asleep for an hour now. The whole time Mello hadn't left his side. The blonde had stayed there, watching the younger boy's breathing and checking his pulse occasionally. The amount of the drug Matt was taking made him nervous. That much should have killed him by now or at least put him in a coma. 

Mello frowned. Matt was shivering and sweating slightly. He was cold to the touch and Mello pressed two fingers to his throat, checking his pulse again. All he wanted to know right now was why Matt did this and that he would be okay. Unconsciously Mello tangled his fingers in his rosary. He felt like he should pray over this, but something stopped him. Matt wouldn't have wanted that, Mello praying for him, although the blonde doubted Matt knew how often that actually happened. Besides which, Mello needed the reassurance prayer offered.

Why did he have to shiver like that? Why was he so cold? His heartbeat was slower than it should have been, but it wasn't that slow. It pained Mello to see him this way. It made him think of the last time. The worst days had been spent with Matt curled up on the couch all day and Mello spending the nights just holding him. He would shiver like that and whimper because of the pain. It was terrible. The memory of Matt curled up against him, the feeling like he was holding a skeleton, washed over Mello and the blonde ran a hand down the sleeping gamer's side. He wasn't as thin as he had been then. That at least was good. And Matt had come to him about it. It didn't matter that Mello had planned to approach the younger boy about the issue in a few days, because Matt had come to him first.

The redhead felt like he was freezing and Mello got up to find another blanket to put over him. _Father, why are __You__ testing me this way? He's all I have. __If I lose him…_ Quietly he draped the blanket over the trembling boy and settled next to him again. "It's gonna be alright, Matt. Just be strong. I'm not going to let you go."

It bothered him that Matt wasn't moving at all aside from his shivering and shallow breaths. Usually he moved at least a little when he slept. Then again, Mello had never sat with him through a drugged sleep before. He had learned a lot since the last time, which was why he was so worried now. Last time he had simply forced Matt to quit, which had only made him sicker. Last time he hadn't known how to deal with the sickness. Last time he hadn't known all the side-effects and withdrawal symptoms. This time would be different. This time they would work through it slowly, because the last time he'd nearly killed the gamer. The same mistakes would not be made again.

Then again, perhaps this time it would be easier. This time Matt had realized he was sick and that he needed help. He realized he needed to quit and that was a good start. Mello was proud of him for asking for help, but at the same time it scared him that the boy wouldn't say why he had started using again in the first place. _Time heals all wounds._ He just needed to give it time. Eventually Matt would tell him, although he had a suspicion that it was because of him. Still, they would work through this. Matt would heal. They would be alright.

Matt jerked in his sleep, curling tighter and shaking more violently. Mello picked up one of his hands and just held it. Quietly he murmured in Latin, a prayer for Matt's health and for the strength to help him heal. He just had to keep faith. After all, it had gotten him though hell before.

He wondered what Matt thought of as he swallowed those pills. The redhead knew the drugs could kill him, yet he overdosed anyway. The freckled boy had spoken before of feeling worthless and unwanted. Desperation. But that hadn't been what Mello saw in his eyes when he took them today. Matt's face had been blank, his eyes empty. Something about him had seemed sad, but it was deeper than that. A sorrow so deep it was fatal. It was something Mello didn't understand. He had never felt anything strongly. He hadn't mourned when his father died. Even when he was away from Matt for a year and aching to see him again, everything was muted. He loved Matt so much that had he been anyone else it probably would have made him cry, but he just couldn't. That was the strongest emotion he had, the feeling he got from Matt. Still, he spent most of his time feeling like he was lost in a fog. Everything was dulled in the mist that shrouded his mind.

Again he frowned, running a hand over Matt's soft red hair. He wanted him to wake up, to be himself again. He hated seeing him like this. "You better not give up. It's all gonna be alright." He sighed, knowing it was pointless to speak at all. Matt wouldn't hear him anyway. "Sometimes I really don't understand you."


	17. A Test of Faith

**A/N: **Hola. Chapter 17. So I have had awful writer's block lately. I couldn't write anything - original, fanfic, nothing. And then I heard the Bible verse I referance and it sparked an idea. Not quite devine intervention, but almost... if I believed in that, I'd be tempted to say it was. And I'd love to see if anyone catches the Shakespeare refeance and knows the play. Anywho, the next chapter will be different. Flashbacks mostly. And about the ages. I know I got them wrong. Sorry about that. They're kind of working on borrowed time here it seems. There will probably be a few other discrepencies, as I plan on following the plot but I don't have the books. They're at home. But that's enough rambling. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Trinny Dream, Super SaDist, ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, AlisterRainbow, Karin Babbitt, and Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note has never, nor will it ever, belonged to me.

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Another hour had passed and Matt still hadn't woken. He was still cold to the touch, although his pulse was a bit quicker than it had been. Mello was no longer angry or frustrated, but frightened. What if Matt really had taken too much? What if he didn't wake up? What if he went into shock, a coma… worse? His breathing was still too shallow. What if he suffocated? What if he didn't come out of this? Maybe he had finally pushed himself over the edge. Maybe Mello had been wrong to let him take anything. What if the meds had finally killed him? What if his body had finally given out? After all, he had put it through enough abuse that it was beyond a mere possibility. 

A small sound from Matt pulled Mello out of his worried frenzy. He was waking up. He would be weak when he regained consciousness and Mello had no intention of letting him get up right away; still, his heart rate had increased and now that he thought about it his breathing wasn't as shallow as it had been an hour ago. There wasn't much, just that small noise and a slight twitch of the muscles around his eyes, but it was reassuring. It gave the blonde hope that perhaps the techie would be alright after all. He would wake up just fine and now that he knew what they were dealing with, Matt could begin to heal.

Quietly Mello reached for his Bible, which lay on the bedside table next to the clock and Matt's cigarettes. He didn't care at this point whether or not Matt would want him praying over him; after all, hadn't he already done that? And Mello needed the reassurance of God's word, to be reminded again that the Lord was with him and would see him through this trial just as He had so many others. Without really looking he opened the well-worn Bible to a random page. He found that guidance was much more easily found when you were willing to let go and accept what you were told. Glancing at the page he found that he had opened to the first chapter of First Peter. It was a verse near the top of the page that caught his attention.

First Peter 1:7  
That the trial of your faith, being more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.

_As always, Father.__ Keep to the word of the Lord and all will be well. I knew __You__ would not abandon me so easily. You have seen me through Hell before. I passed that test and I shall pass this one as well. Thank You, Father, for __Your__ guidance. __Just another test of faith._

When Matt opened his eyes Mello was still sitting next to him, Bible in hand. He felt dizzy and disoriented, but it didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was that Mello seemed to have stayed there the whole time.

"Mel?" Matt whispered weakly.

Mello started, nearly dropping his Bible. "Matt! You're awake."

Matt nodded and smiled at Mello's astonishment. Had he seriously thought he wouldn't wake up? "Yeah. Generally I'm out for an hour or so. Anything interesting happen?"

Mello just stared at him.

"Do you mean to tell me you actually stayed in here the whole time?" Matt yawned, rubbing at his eyes. He was a touch groggy, but that was normal as well. When he didn't get an answer he just chuckled. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Matt," Mello said as he closed the black Bible and laid it on his lap before reaching back to press two fingers to the gamer's neck. "I was concerned. Got a problem?"

"You don't get 'concerned'," Matt said, rolling his eyes. He moved shoved Mello's hand away, but just got his wrist smacked. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you finally don't have the pulse of somebody who died yesterday, so shut up," Mello reprimanded. "And I do too get concerned. What, do you think I don't care?"

"You have an odd way of showing it," Matt muttered.

Mello glared at him. "I do not. And I thought I told you to shut up."

"Fine." In Matt's opinion, Mello was acting a little too worried. Then again, there was always last time to consider. The last time, when he had come so close to death. Once again he focused on the blonde's crystalline eyes. "Mel, it's gonna be alright. There's no need to worry."

"I know," Mello said unconvincingly. "But we're all we have. I have to worry."

Matt sat up and put out a hand to steady himself as black spots swarmed across his vision. He managed to catch Mello's shoulder and smiled when the blonde mirrored his gesture. "You're being awfully sentimental."

Of course Mello protested. "What, I'm not allowed? And who says I am anyway?"

Matt just shook his head and Mello scowled. "You know, you were more agreeable when you weren't conscious."

A smirk crept across the gamer's freckled face. "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much."

At this Mello shoved him back down and punched him in the shoulder just hard enough to hurt before turning his back to him.

"Hey! Gentle. Are you trying to help me or kill me?" Matt protested.

"It'll be the latter if you don't shut up," Mello huffed. Matt just grinned.

"Touchy, touchy. Geeze," Matt whined. "Come on. Help me get up so I don't faint."

"If you're going to faint, just stay there," Mello said, still not looking at him. "I'm not carrying you back in here if you do pass out."

"Yes you would," Matt smirked. "And I'm not going to pass out. I just can't balance on my own."

Mello rolled his eyes and got to his feet, pulling Matt with him. When the redhead overbalanced and fell against him he made no move to push him away. Instead he just pulled the younger boy closer and held him there. It was then that Matt knew just how badly he had scared Mello and suddenly he didn't feel like joking anymore.

"Come on," he said softly. "It has to be nearly dark. Let's go watch the sunset."

Mello seemed to accept his request, nodding silently and helping him keep his balance as he headed for the living room.


	18. Before

**A/N: **Hola. Chapter 18. Yep, the quote last chapter was by queen Gertrude from Hamlet. The flashbacks are simultanious, hence it switches back and forth. There are NAME SPOILERS. And the song Matt sings is Some of Us. It's the song from chapter nine. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles, ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, Trinny Dream, Karin Babbitt, and skye.fell.over.me for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Matt or Mello or the song.

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_The small redheaded boy looked up forlornly at the imposing structure in front of him. St. Steven's Catholic Church. His "family" was long gone. They had left him here, in the care of these people and their shelter. He'd heard of this place from a couple of other kids in the system. It was like a crisis centre of sorts. They took in mostly teenagers; drug addicts, teen moms, ex-gang members and the like. They did, however, accept older domestic abuse cases and children who had been orphaned, abused, or abandoned. He hated to think of himself as a crisis case and he had sworn he would never end up in a place like this. Then again, he had thought that if he tried his best to just act like a normal kid maybe this family would keep him. He had dumbed himself down, tried to be just another nine year old, but he had failed. Just like always. He would never succeed in anything and no one would ever want him._

_He sighed as he wandered up the steps. He knew the drill. They would ask him about a million questions, fill out some paperwork that he could easily do for him if they would let him, and that would be it. It was Saturday night, so they'd make him go to mass in the morning and then he'd probably start class on Monday. They would probably send him to the parochial school and teach him to be a good little Catholic boy. At least he had a roof over his head._

_

* * *

Eyes. There were always eyes. Always someone watching him. The little boy who was carefully making his way over now, though, looked unfamiliar. Not that he kept track of the others and they were all blue-eyed-blondes like him, so it was easy to get them mixed up. But this one, he looked so tiny. Sick bastard had started taking even younger ones, then. The kid couldn't have been older than six._

_"You're Mihael, right?" the kid said softly, as he settled next to the older boy leaning against the wall._

_Mihael nodded. "What's it to you?"_

_"I'm Alesky," the younger boy said._

_"Look kid, I don't care what your name is," Mihael told him, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. "I don't care how old you are. I don't care where you came from. I don't care how you got here. You get no sympathy. Just leave me alone."_

_"Someone told me you've been here for two years," the boy, Alesky, continued nervously._

_"What part of 'leave me alone' did you not understand, kid?" Mihael growled. God these little ones were annoying._

_"S-sorry. I just wondered, how have you managed not to… you know," the small boy was fidgeting anxiously with the hem of his shirt._

_Mihael opened one eye and glanced at him. "I don't know. I don't have answers for you. Go away."_

_

* * *

Mail stared up at the bunk above his. He couldn't sleep, but that was normal; after all, it was his first night in a new place. The other kids had pretty much ignored him when he came in, but he had been quiet and some of them had already been asleep. Nothing was going to change when they woke. They'd just ignore him anyway.__

* * *

It had been a week since the tiny one, Alesky, had approached him. Mihael had sworn after he watched the first one die that he wouldn't get attached. Still, there was something about the boy. He was so small, so young, so scared, and Mihael couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He wouldn't last much longer. The smaller ones never lasted long. He had outlived every one of them so far. All of the others he had been imprisoned with, he had outlived them. His current __companions, none of them had been there for more than nine months. That was the longest he ever kept them, nine months. Mihael supposed there was a certain significance to that, but there was the exception. Him. The man had kept him for over two years now. He supposed the creep found him too entertaining to kill._

_Alesky would die soon. He was starting to panic, the fear finally overcoming his childish naivety. He had finally realized what his fate would be and it scared him. It wouldn't be much longer now. It was best that Mihael let go, desensitise himself so he wouldn't be affected by the boy's death. _

_It was odd to think that a ten year old would be able to rationalize that way and perhaps that was why their captor had kept him. He was an oddity and fascinating to watch. However, he was also dangerous, as was anyone who completely rationalized all emotion. Someone who could pick themselves apart like that, who could strip themselves of humanity to that extent, was indeed someone to be feared. And God have mercy on the beady-eyed man if Mihael ever found an opportunity to kill him. The child would have thought nothing of torturing a man like that, just the way he tortured the children he killed._

_

* * *

"Hey, you're new here aren't you?"_

_Mail looked up to see a girl about his age standing over him. She was very plain-looking, but there was a softness and understanding in her eyes that was beautiful in its own right. The redhead nodded._

_"Well that explains why you're all alone. I'm Sara. What's your name?" she asked, sitting down next to him._

_"Mail," he said. "I just got here last night."_

_She nodded. "Family problems, or…?"_

_"Another family gave up on me," he explained. _

_She winced. "I'm sorry. I know how that is."_

_Mail just shrugged. "How about you? You been in the system long?"_

_"Since I was about a year old. At least, that's they tell me," she said, looking at the floor. "My mother was young and she just couldn't take care of me. I'm ten, by the way."_

_Mail nodded and smiled at her. "I'm nine. My mother gave me up too. Left me at a police station the night I was born. Same as you though, that's just what I've been told."_

_Sara smiled warmly. Mail couldn't have been happier._

_

* * *

Mihael could hear crying. Not just crying, screaming. Quietly he looked around at the other still forms dotting the room – all of the children were trying to feign sleep. Alesky was missing. Mihael wasn't surprised. In silence he got up, picking up his Bible and moving to a small patch of moonlight. He was focusing everything he had on erasing Alesky from his memory. Permanently. The screams weren't helping one bit. It was going to be a long night.__

* * *

Mail sat leaning against the wall outside the director's office. He could hear voices inside and he knew they were talking about him. Normally he wasn't one for eves dropping, but he was bored and lonely. Sara had been adopted a month ago. He had asked about her often, always being told about how well things were going, and he was happy for her. Still, he couldn't help but be slightly jealous. She was in a new home with a seemingly successful family while he was still here. He was alone now, too. No one but Sara had ever wanted anything to do with him and that hadn't changed when she left._

_"As I'm sure you noticed," said a voice he recognized as one of the priests, "child services was especially thorough in looking over your record."_

_"Yes," came a woman's voice. It sounded familiar. The couple had been to visit several times. "Because we wish to adopt Mail?"_

_"He's had trouble keeping a family," the Father told them. "He's a handful. Brilliant, but that's the trouble."_

_"I see," said a man's voice._

_Mail quietly got up to leave. He would have another family soon. It wouldn't turn out well, there was no doubting that, but he couldn't help hoping._

* * *

"Hey Mel?" Matt was lying across the couch with his head resting on Mello's knee. 

"Hmmm?" The blonde barely seemed to notice that he was absent-mindedly running his fingers through the gamer's hair.

"Do you remember before?" Matt asked quietly, sitting up and moving to lean on the blonde.

"Yes. Why?" Mello eyed him suspiciously. There was no need to ask what he was talking about. Before always meant before Wammy.

"Were you ever scared?" Matt asked, looking out at the sky, stained blood-red by the setting sun.

Mello was silent for a moment. "Of course I was. I'd've had to be insane not to be. Why?"

"I was too," Matt told him. "Do you remember any of them?"

"Only one," Mello said, his eyes trained on the horizon. Matt knew he was trying to hide, but that was alright. "A young boy, no older than six. His name was Alesky. He asked me how I had stayed alive for two years. I felt sorry for him because he was so young. Who do you remember most?"

Matt didn't hesitate with his response. "A girl, Sara. She was a year older than me. I met her at the crisis centre. I remember because she was the only one who talked to me. She was adopted a month before they sent me to the last family. I've told you about them."

Mello nodded and draped an arm over his shoulder protectively. It didn't matter anymore. All of that was over. In fact it all seemed so far away that it could have been another life. Yet somehow it still hurt.

"I'm kind of scared now, too," the gamer said quietly. He sighed and was silent for a moment before he started singing softly. "Forget what he did, can I be the kid for your soul to keep?"

Mello glanced down at him, quirking an eyebrow at the techie's out of tune version of the song he liked so much. Matt wasn't looking at him, though, and he just shook his head before staring out the window once more.

Matt turned a little to study the blonde's expression. His eyes were cold with the memories and he was tense. "Love you, Mel."

Mello didn't say anything, but he smiled faintly and tightened his grip on Matt's shoulder. When the crimson-tinged sky had faded to black and the stars had begun to show through the clouds Mello realized that the gamer had fallen asleep. Rather than wake him up, the blonde lifted him carefully and carried him back to their bedroom.


	19. Unknowing Confessions

**A/N:** Hola. Chapter 19. So I've been in an odd mood. I've been listening to old mixed tapes. They bring back some odd memories. Not bad, just odd. Anywho, now that the reason this probably sounds odd compared to the rest of it has been explained, on with the chapter.

Thank you to Hair-Noodles, ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, AlisterRainbow, Trinny Dream, Karin Babbitt, and xxsilenced for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Death Note and there's no chance of that changing in the future.

* * *

Matt woke in darkness around three in the morning and nearly panicked when he realized he wasn't where he had fallen asleep. He calmed, however, when he saw Mello next to him. The blonde's back was to him and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Matt didn't want to wake him. The redhead just spoke softly in the darkness as though Mello might be listening.

"I don't understand why you do this," he smiled, hesitantly reaching out to touch the yellow hair that fanned out over the pillow. "Why you try to keep me here. Why do you care so much?

"When we were little I thought you hated me. When you left I almost didn't go to look for you. I thought you wouldn't want me around. Near convinced me to go after you, though I doubt you'd believe that. He knew a lot more about us than either of us would have liked him to. I think that was why he was on that wing with us. He picks up on everything and it hurts him. He told me if I loved you I should go. I told him he was crazy; I didn't love you the way he made it sound. I don't know how it seemed, just that I couldn't stand on my own without you. That's what I remember, why I was crushed when you left. I needed you, but I didn't love you. That came later.

"You weren't there. I was there when you realized. You weren't there when I did. It was when I was still searching for you. I'm not really sure when it started. I was lonely, I remember. I'd go to bars and drink until it didn't hurt. Drink until I was numb. I managed to find the places where no one cared how old you were. They were always full of kids about my age or a couple years older. I'd end up spending the night with someone. Anyone, and that's what bothered me. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. And it wasn't the alcohol. It was when I went in, when I was still sober. That's when I knew who I was going home with. And the guys, it wasn't an occasional thing. When I started to realize that, I freaked. Not like you did with the whole starving myself and spending every waking moment in prayer, but it was hard to handle at first. By at first I mean maybe a month or so. After that I calmed down and just accepted it. I mean, it really isn't a big deal.

"I realized something, though, that was a big deal. Near was right. I did love you. That's why I was so lonely. I loved you, but I had no idea where you were. I knew I was an idiot for it. You would turn me away and I'd never hear from you again and that would be it. I knew I was setting myself up to get hurt. Somehow, though, I didn't care. And when I found you, you didn't turn me away. I'll admit it was tough at first. I made the mistake of letting you know I felt the same about you as you did about me. You didn't turn me away, but you would barely look at me. I was ok with who I was, but you were still struggling. I remember you justifying that with scripture, giving me deluded answers as to why you should hate yourself. You wouldn't get near me and you wouldn't allow me to touch you at all. If I so much as brushed your hand by accident you freaked out. I remember that.

"But you got better with time. I learned when to push and when to let it go. I thought we'd be ok. And we were for a while.

"Mello, why do we put ourselves through all of this? I can't see the light anymore. When I was very young, back before Wammy's, back when I was with the Johnsons, I thought I had a chance and a future. I thought there was hope. And then they took me from them and for years I was shuffled through the system. I fell behind in school because I didn't care. I gave up on the future I had thought I'd have. Then I went to Wammy's and it was all the same. Until I met you. I don't know what it was, but you gave me hope. I felt like if I could help you, get you to trust me, maybe I could make it. We both could. But now I don't know. I know we'll fall apart if we aren't together, but I don't know where we're going. I was going to go to college, I was going to be a programmer, maybe build computers. When I lived with the Johnsons that was the future I saw for myself. When I met you, I felt like maybe I had a shot. It was more that I might be able to change things. If I could change your life I could fix my own. But now I don't know. What are we doing? Why? When it's all over, where will we be? I need stability, I need control, you know that. But more than that I need direction. I need a purpose and right now I don't have one. I need to know I'm doing something worth doing.

"I know I'm being stupid, but you always seem to know the things I don't. So why? What is our purpose? What is our reason for living? Do we have one at all? I'm sorry I hurt you. I just need to know."

The gamer sighed. A lot of good that had done him. Mello was still sleeping. Quietly he turned over and closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him.

Behind him sapphire eyes opened wide and the blonde stared at the wall. He had been awake the whole time, heard every word the techie had said.

"I care because I love you, so just hold on," he whispered. But Matt was already lost to sleep and his words fell on deaf ears in the stillness of the night.


	20. Christmas Spirit

**A/N:** Hola! Chapter 20. Sorry this has taken so long. It's finals time again. Although I do have several sections in the works. My writer's block has been killing me. I can't write at all and since writing is much like breathing (at least to me) I've had a hard time functioning at all. Living out here is slowly and indirectly killing me... I felt like Near sitting here writing this with my stuffed polar bear stretched out across my lap. I'm such a dork. : ) I suppose it's because I miss my dogs. The smaller of the two will lay across my lap when I sit at the computer. Anywho, enough rambling. This skips a month, though I'll probably cover it in flashbacks. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Kitttea, Hair-Noodles, Trinny Dream, ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, AlisterRainbow, sleepie-kid, Karin Babbitt, and XxMailxXJeevesxXMihaelxXKeehlxX for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

* * *

One day passed, then two, three, and before either of them realized it an entire month had gone by. They were putting up Christmas decorations when Matt finally came to that realization.

"Mel?" Matt called from where he stood atop a chair. He was hanging a faded paper chain around the living room.

"Yeah?" Mello questioned from the other side of the room.

"It's the twenty second," Matt replied. "Of December."

"Yeah. That would be why you wanted to decorate. Holiday spirit or something like that?" Mello replied. He had set out a small nativity set; his only contribution to the decorating Matt did each Christmas.

"It's been a month," Matt said quietly, not quite looking at him.

The blonde just stared. "Since?"

"Since I… you…" The redhead had lowered the paper chain and turned his emerald eyes on the floor.

Quietly Mello pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and moved to stand beside the gamer. "Come down."

Matt looked confused, but he obeyed anyway. As soon as his feet touched the floor he was pulled into a tight hug.

Matt had been healing. Slowly, but it was still progress. Still, Mello was worried. The techie's excuse for not eating was still the drugs, but the blonde didn't buy it. He was recovering from the addiction, but he was still losing weight. He had been lethargic too and when questioned he cited the headaches. That wasn't it though, Mello could tell. That wasn't why he wasn't feeling well. It wasn't why he was getting worse.

"I want you to come with me to Christmas mass," Mello said as he let go of the younger boy.

"Why?" Matt questioned.

"Just come with me," the blonde said, shaking his head.

Matt narrowed his eyes a little. Mello had been doing things like reading scripture to him and trying to get him to pray. This wasn't the first time the blonde had asked him to go to mass. Confession had been a whim and to be honest it had scared him. He didn't plan on setting foot back in a church anytime soon. There was more to it than that.

"Why?" the techie repeated.

Mello sighed. "What you said. About looking for meaning."

"Religion has nothing to do with that." Although Mello's odd attempts to convert him made a lot more sense when that was considered. Of course… "Wait. You heard that?" The blonde nodded. "But you were sleeping."

"No I wasn't," Mello told him.

Matt pressed a hand to his forehead and sat down hard on the chair he'd been using as a step stool. He remembered exactly what he'd said. "That means you heard all of that… oh god… that's not good."

"Don't worry about it," Mello said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"But –"

"We'll deal with that later if it bothers you," the blonde soothed. "I want to help."

"Mel, I've been through the whole church thing," Matt replied. "We've been over this before."

Mello sighed. "The last experience you had with religion besides me was you last foster family. They tainted your view of it. I know –"

"And the king shall answer unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inas much as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my bretheren ye have done it unto me." Matt's voice was like ice as he recited without looking up.

"What?" Mello blinked, caught off guard.

"Mark twenty five forty," the redhead said. When he looked up Mello was taken aback by the rage that shone in his emerald eyes. "You should know that. Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me. One of the parables. And no. You don't know.

"That family, they were strict Catholics like you. They were cruel. I've told you about them. I can still remember the only time they ever took me to mass. When we got home I was hit for looking the wrong way at one of the other boys from the church. I was nine! I've told you a thousand times how it went from there.

"You know, the whole time I was in the system I always thought of that verse, Mark twenty five forty, and wondered if anyone actually believed it. Whatever you do unto the least of these. Do you have any idea how many times I was abandoned? Thrown away like I was nothing. And the church run orphanages and the Christian families they sent me to, the ones who always gave up on me in the end. I used to believe in your God, but that was a long time ago. I know better now."

"Like I said, your view is distorted," the blonde replied. He sounded much calmer than he felt. "It's not like that."

"Ok," Matt said. "Proverbs ten twelve. Hatred stirreth up strifes, but love covereth all sins."

"What about it?" Mello asked although he already knew.

"They've taught you to hate yourself," the redhead replied darkly. "Because of us. You're a sinner because you love me. You'll burn in hell for it. What happened to that verse? What happened to love covers all sins? When did love become a sin? Hmm?"

"Matt you don't understand," Mello said. There was more to it than that.

"No. I don't," Matt growled. "Now if you'll kindly leave me alone, I'm going back to sleep. I have a headache and I don't feel like dealing with you."

Mello sighed as he watched the redhead retreat down the hallway. He would never understand why the boy was so difficult.


	21. Explainations

**A/N:** Hola! Chapter 21. So it's been, what, about two weeks since I last updated and at least a week since I posted anything? Sorry about that. I've had this really irritating case of writer's block. Just writing this was a struggle and I hope it doesn't show to much (I didn't read it over). It's taken me the whole two weeks whereas normally I could sit down and write this in one, maybe two days. On the bright side, though, I've gotten a decent amount of work done on one of my novels over the past week. The week before that was mainly spent on studying for exams and analyzing a comic book 'cause I'm a big dork. Well, that's about it. It's 3:30am and I have to get up early in the morning. On with the chapter.

Thank you to ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, Karin Babbitt, saidtheirnevers, sleepie-kid, Trinny Dream, Kaze Kimizu, XxMailxXJeevesxXMihaelxXKeehlxX, Hair-Noodles, Kyla45, AlisterRainbow, Desdemona Kakalose, Akasun Scorpion, Dayxxdreamer, and Joejoe-dbloodlupherz for reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine.

* * *

Silently Mello made his way down the hall. When he reached their bedroom he opened the door hesitantly to see Matt sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, his back to the door. Without a word he made his way across the room and across the bed until he was kneeling behind the younger boy, his arms draped over the redhead's shoulders in a loose hug.

"Go away," Matt growled.

"I just want to talk," Mello said quietly, mindful of Matt's supposed headache.

"I already told you, no," Matt replied.

"Not about that," the blonde assured him, allowing his arms to slip down around the boy's waist. He was frighteningly thin and for a moment Mello's mind sent him back to the last time this had happened.

_"Mello, I'm cold," Matt muttered. It wasn't as though there was much Mello could do about it. He was lying next to the redhead with his arms around his waist and he could swear he was sweating because of all the blankets. Matt was shaking. He was so thin that Mello was half afraid he would hurt himself with how violently he was trembling. Mello could feel every rib and every vertebra that made up the back pressed against him. He could feel the bones of the pelvis as his hands rested on too-thin hips. He could feel all of the bones in Matt's hands as they grasped his and held on as though his life depended on it. It was haunting and unnerving, like lying next to a living skeleton._

Mello shuddered and forced the image away. "Matt, about what you said before. About what you told me. You remember, don't you?"

Matt nodded. "I didn't know you were awake."

"All of that was true?" Mello asked.

"I had no reason to lie if I thought you were asleep," Matt said. "Look, Mel, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You probably hate me after you heard that," the redhead sighed. "I mean, for one thing you told me I was your first. I don't think I said anything when you told me that."

"I figured when you didn't say anything that I wasn't yours."

"And I thought you hated me when we were kids."

"I did hate you when I first got to Wammy. You tried to get close to me. I hated anyone who did that."

"And Near."

"It's not your fault the bastard reads people so easily."

"He's the only reason I went after you."

Mello didn't say anything, just watched the techie quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You thought I had abandoned you. I understand that now." Mello moved a little closer only to be elbowed in the stomach.

"Just let me be," Matt said.

"No," Mello replied stubbornly.

"Mello," Matt growled in warning.

Mello placed a gentle kiss to the side of Matt's neck, mindful of the possibility that the gamer would lash out at him. "You know I don't care about all of that, right?"

Matt crossed his arms loosely as though cold, cradling his left arm slightly, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Mello, please go away."

The blonde sighed and rested his head on Matt's shoulder and leaned against the gamer's back. Gently he tightened his grip on the techie and was simply silent, enjoying Matt's soder and tobacco smell which mingled with the scent of Mello's own shampoo that Matt so often used. After a moment that stretched into eternity he spoke once again. "Matt, we're gonna get you better."

Matt didn't say anything, just dropped his head.

"It's gonna be alright," the blonde said softly. "Come on. Lunch. You're too thin."

"Mel, drop it," Matt pled.

"You'll get sick again," the blonde argued. Mello had only just managed to nurse the redhead back to something that vaguely resembled health and he wasn't about to let Matt make himself sick yet again simply because he didn't feel like eating. The younger boy had always been thin and in the past two months alone he'd lost more than twenty pounds. Altogether Mello guessed it was closer to thirty-five or forty, which left him looking like an extra in a bad zombie movie, just minus the rotting flesh bit. "Come on, Matt. What's wrong? Just tell me, please. I promise I won't be angry."

Again the gamer let out a soft sigh. "Just go away and let me sleep."

Knowing he'd lost the battle for the moment, Mello retreated. He'd just have to keep at it. There was no way he was giving up.

* * *

That night Matt lay awake, listening to Mello's quiet breathing as he tried to fall asleep himself.

_You don't understand._ Matt sighed, turning away from the sleeping blonde. _You can't. You haven't been there. You've never hit the bottom and kept falling. You've never been there. It numbs the pain, but the drugs were killing me you said. I don't want to live this way anymore. It helps. You keep trying to fix me, but you don't see the reasons it doesn't work. You can't because you've never been there. I feel hollow. It's fitting. The hunger from the drugs, I never noticed it. I was always sick or sleeping. Now though, now I notice it. I notice and it's fitting. And there's no pain like the cutting and no addiction like the drugs. It helps, but you can't let well enough be. _

_And church. You've started some religious crusade all over the fact that I mentioned not knowing my purpose in life. I don't have one, but I know I won't find one in your god. I've been there too. I've had religion forced on me. I didn't want it. __It doesn't help.__ I've seen too many horrible things done in the name of God. __Abuse, even murder.__ I heard stories from some of the other kids that made anything I went through look pleasant. At least the guy who kidnapped you didn't claim God told him to kill all those kids. I just don't understand it._

_I don't know what you want from me. You say you just want me to get better. I want to die. Do you understand that? It was better with the drugs, because I was so numb to the world that I didn't care. But now everything is too clear. I like the hunger. It makes me feel like I'm in control and it takes away some of that clarity. I'm working to get off the drugs and you check my arms every night even though I haven't cut in years. I guess you have reason too, though. I've certainly wanted to often enough lately. Sometimes I wish I could just make it all go away. I guess you've never thought about that. You've always been strong enough to handle it. I guess that's just another comment on exactly why I'll never amount to anything. I should have listened back then when they told me that._

With one final glance back at Mello the redhead closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.


	22. Hiding

**A/N:** Hola! Nope, I'm not deadyet. Unfortuantly, neither is my writer's block. I've had odd bursts of inspiration, but mostly they've pertained to my novel, Cypher, and a different fanfic from another catagory entirely. I'm quite pleased right now, asI've finished this chapter and I've just watched Rose Red for the first timeand I think I found the inspriation I needed to finish chapter whatever-number-this-is-going-to-be of Cypher. Sorry about the wait and I hope this doesn't sound too terribly forced, seeing as how a great deal of it was. Well then, I shan't make you wait through any more of my rambling. On with the chapter.

Thank you to Joejoe-dbloodlupherz, ClOuDs-N-rAiNbOwS, Karin Babbitt, Trinny Dream, Kyla45, AlisterRainbow, Con Fuoco, Hair-Noodles, sleepie-kid, Moro-moro, and no heart to follow for reviewing! And thank all of you for your patience!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

* * *

Mello was up early the next morning. Mafia life never sleeps, after all. Quietly he considered Matt's sleeping form for a moment. He'd been leaving him alone too much. He knew he had. Yesterday was the first day he had stayed home in two weeks. He hadn't even spent his birthday at home, much to Matt's dismay. But he'd missed too much when he had been staying home. Not that he'd had any other option; it wasn't like he could have left Matt and expected him to get better on his own. Drug addicts don't just recover, someone has to be there to push them. Still, he _had_ left him practically on his own after that first week. He'd been home the whole first week, twice the next week, and now he was hardly home at all. 

The redhead stirred as he realized Mello wasn't beside him anymore. With a yawn he sat up, rubbing at his eyes, just in time to see Mello pulling the door shut behind him.

"You leaving, Mel?" he slurred blearily, still not quite awake.

The blonde froze for a moment before turning to face him. "Yeah. I'll be back… I'm not sure when. There's, uh… we're planning something important, but… You remember that notebook? The one we had to kidnap that girl for?"

And suddenly Matt was alert and focused. Anything having to do with that damned notebook was bad news. "Yeah. What's going on?"

"Don't worry about it just yet," Mello said. "I may need you later, though. You're better with explosives than anyone else I've got. But I should get going. I'll be back later."

And with that he was gone, leaving Matt to stare at the door in confusion. What exactly was Mello planning with this notebook that required explosives?

Mello felt terrible about just leaving like that. But it really couldn't be helped. And he couldn't tell Matt what was going on. The redhead would freak. If he knew what Mello was planning, it would probably send him right back to the depths of the pill bottle Mello had been working to fish him out of. No. It was better for him not to know until it was absolutely necessary.

Soon there would be a showdown of sorts. Mafia versus SPK. Mello versus Near. But then, hadn't that always been the case? Always it had been Mello against Near. Always number two against number one. And where had Matt fallen in all of that? Third, yet somewhere in the middle. Matt had been Mello's best – and for the most part only – friend at Wammy. But Matt had always had a soft spot for Near as well. He had loved Mello's daredevil attitude, but pitied Near's frailty. He had loved Mello's humour and envied Near's insight. He had really been a loyal friend to both of them and Mello knew that somehow Matt had understood something both he and Near had missed. They needed to compete. It was what had kept them going then and it was still, in a way, beneficial to them now.

And in that instant he wanted to tell Matt everything. It a sudden thing and he wasn't exactly sure what he meant by it, but he also couldn't find any better way to put it. He could actually feel the emotion as though it were a weight on his shoulders. He wanted to be close to the redhead, but he wasn't sure how. Truth be told he had never been good with people, but after the incident he had been afraid to let anyone get close to him. He just couldn't seem to get rid of that wall. But somehow Matt had managed to get farther past it than anyone else had. Perhaps it was the almost child-like innocence the gamer seemed to posses that made Mello want to keep him close and keep him safe. Funny how one so self-reliant and world-weary could seem so innocent. Matt had seen more than the average adult could imagine, yet there were still moments, like walking home from the church in the snow, when there was such a naïve wonder in his eyes that it was hard to believe he had endured such a life. Mello's innocence was gone, shattered in the moment he watched the first boy die. Matt, though, in spite of his brokenness had managed to hold on to that innocence the world had denied him when he was first abandoned. Mello didn't know how he had done it, but there was something about that that had drawn Mello in like a moth to a flame.

"_Hey," Matt said softly as he leaned against the doorframe. "Wanna come out and play soccer with Pete and Mark and me?"_

_Mello shook his head. _

"_Why?" the redhead questioned._

"_Don't know them," Mello replied. "'Sides, I don't want to."_

"_Oh," Matt said. "Well why aren't you with your friends?"_

"_Don't have any," the blonde replied as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world._

"_Really?"_

_Mello nodded and glanced up at the gamer. He was standing beside him now with a pitying expression on his freckled face._

"_Can I stay here then?" The offer was genuine and Mello was a bit startled by it._

"_Why would you want to do that?" he asked warily._

"_Because I don't want you to be lonely," Matt explained, sitting next to the older boy on the edge of the bed. "It hurts, not to have anyone to talk to. I don't want you not to have anyone."_

_Mello just stared at him. Here was a boy he didn't even know, who didn't know him, but he was offering to stay with him so he wouldn't be lonely. It seemed so odd. Why would he do that? Why would he care?_

He still wondered sometimes why Matt had come to his door that day. It had been about a week after he got to Wammy. Neither of them had even known the other's name, but Matt had worried over him anyway. Matt hadn't really wanted a friend for himself – he had been hesitant to get to know Mello too well – but at the same time he was worried that the blonde would be left all alone. He knew what that felt like and he didn't want that to happen to anyone else.

Matt had never explained that day even though Mello had asked. It seemed the redhead had simply known he was suffering and that that had been all the motivation he needed. That was just how Matt was. He was unable to trust people, yet the thought of anyone being alone like that was unbearable to him. Mello was just cold whereas Matt was just scared. He would have to stay home with him tomorrow. He didn't want him to be alone.


	23. Author's Note again

Hola,  
Well, there's been quite an uproar about me getting rid of this. I went back and read it again. I was watching old episodes of Bones and I watched the one with the song mentioned in chapter ten (Bring On the Wonder) and I remembered that chapter. So I went back and read the whole thing again. I'd forgotten how much I liked this story. The reason I was thinking of getting rid of it is kind of complicated. There are a series of my fanfics that are connected. The first is Truth, which is actually the first fanfic I ever wrote and that's why I'm still dead set on finishing it. From Truth came Moonlight and Raindrops. Moonlight and Raindrops evolved into Godless, and Godless became Anomaly, Lost, and Fallen. So long story short I'm not deleting this. However, I am separating it from Lost and Fallen. I know I said it would serve as a sort of follow up to those stories, but I've broken away from this so much that I don't think I can do that. That's a big reason why I was going to delete it. I think I'm going to continue this, however, it will be completely separate from Fallen and Lost.  
Jya ne,  
Lily


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